


The Burden of Rule

by ChaoticRice



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: 711 OV, Ambassador Penelo, Angsty Teenage Larsa, Completely disregarding Revenant Wings, F/M, Five Years Later, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mystery, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Past Character Death, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-War, Psychological Drama, Slow Burn, Suspense, red herrings galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-04-04 19:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14026977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticRice/pseuds/ChaoticRice
Summary: When Larsa Solidor introduces a bill that would abolish the Chop System, members of the Imperial Senate lose all hopes in creating their perfect puppet emperor.On a mission to ensure the future prosperity of her country, Penelo flies to the Imperial City of Archades, only to find herself more captivated by the Empire than she ever thought possible.***03/11/19  -  On hiatus until I finish the rough draft for the entire fic.





	1. Imagine

**Author's Note:**

> Five years after the fall of the Bahamut.
> 
> Thank you to Ridorana for beta-ing!
> 
> First chapter is named after "Imagine" by A Perfect Circle (a John Lennon cover)

Larsa Solidor stood, paralyzed, aboard the Sky Fortress Bahamut.

People were _dying_ just outside the great warship – in the sky above Rabanastre. They were soldiers: husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. No matter what side of the war they stood, most did not fight out of hatred. They fought to defend their countries, as well as the lives of the innocent people in the city below; they did not deserve such violent deaths.

Larsa turned his head, and beside him, his brother Vayne stood tall with confidence, his eyes focused and calculating. Vayne was the epitome of strength – always calm, unwavering, and never losing sight of his goals. Ever talented, Vayne was a military genius who commanded respect with ease. As far as Larsa could remember, he had admired him greatly – as a leader, and a man of House Solidor.

Until today. Despite the Resistance announcing their surrender, Vayne decided to press on with the attack. As airships outside fell and crumbled into nothing, so too did any admiration Larsa had left for his brother.

His heart ached. Another airship fell from the sky. How many more people had to die today? Why must these people suffer while he watched from the safety of the Bahamut?

He had to do _something_ . But he was not the emperor, no – it was Vayne who inherited that title when their dear father had passed. However, _he was there with him_. He could try to persuade Vayne to stop the senseless killings, to end the war right then and there. So Larsa tried, but his brother would not heed him. Larsa had never felt so powerless, and he hated it. He was always taught that words were powerful, but today, his words were meaningless. As Larsa continued to urge Vayne to stop the war, he both felt and heard his voice fade into nothing. And even though his lips moved and his throat ached from screaming, his voice was completely muted – it was useless.

All he could do now was try to slow his breathing.

The devastating echo of airships shooting, crashing, and crumbling bled through the walls of the Bahamut. Distant screams rang in Larsa’s ears even through the warship’s paling. And over the sound of it all, Vayne’s words rang the loudest.

“Observe well, Larsa,” Vayne commanded, and a hidden ferocity began seething through his usual calmness. “Watch and mark you the suffering of one who must rule, yet lacks the power.”

It was a warning, Larsa knew – one that was directed only at him. Should he become Emperor, and should he fail to lead his people…

But he didn’t have time to think on that now, as he saw the Princess Ashe of Dalmasca and her party approaching them.

Vayne narrowed his eyes at the princess. “Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule. Weep for Dalmasca, for she is lost!”

Larsa looked up at Vayne, and no longer saw his brother – instead, a malicious gaze pierced through him with eyes that glowed red. And when Vayne spoke to him so coldly, it was as though nothing remained of his humanity. “What of you, my dear little brother? Are you fit to bear the burden of rule? As I weep for Dalmasca and their powerless Queen, should I too, then, weep for Archadia’s future?”

This was not right, Larsa thought, as he failed to slow his breath. This was not how it happened. None of this was right – neither his brother’s words, nor his inability to _do something_ . In this moment, he was supposed to cast his fear aside and _fight_ his brother. Instead, he was allowing it to fester – and soon it spread from his stomach to his heart, and it consumed him until his entire body trembled.

He turned around and _ran_.

He ran faster than he ever had before, the world blurring around him into a sea of red light. His breathing became heavier, and the rapid pounding of his heartbeat echoed in his ear. There wasn’t enough air to _breathe_ , and there wasn’t enough distance he could put between himself and the stranger who wore his brother’s face.

Larsa woke, gasping. His rapid heart and airless lungs pulled him out of his dream and into reality. He sat up and took a deep breath, allowing himself to calm.

But that was no dream, he thought, as he felt beads of sweat run down the sides of his face and onto his neck. It was a nightmare – the third one this week.

After the red lights of the Bahamut and Vayne’s malicious eyes quickly faded from his memory, one thing remained: the echo of his late brother’s last words.

_“Are you fit to bear the burden of rule?”_

When he tried to remember more, the painful pulsing in his head ripped him from his thoughts. Pounding since the day before, his headache was relentless, and it engulfed the entire left hemisphere of his skull with a blanket of knives.

He heard a firm, yet gentle knock on the door, followed by a voice. “Are you awake, my lord?” He recognized Basch’s deep timbre filtered through a judge’s helmet.

Larsa had asked him long ago to please call him by his name – but unfortunately for him, Basch was a man of formality.  With unwavering fealty, Basch had been serving as his Judge Magister for five years now. However, he was more than Larsa’s personal guard, and he was more than a commander of the military. Over the years, Basch had become family – the closest Larsa had, as there was no one else in Ivalice who bore the blood of House Solidor.

“Yes,” Larsa called, “You may come in.”

The door automatically opened with a hiss and Basch entered the room in full armor that clinked with each step he took. He removed his helmet, revealing a warm smile – Basch loved mornings. “Did you sleep well?”

Larsa _wanted_ to say yes. But in truth, he hadn’t had a decent night of sleep all week, and his pounding head and empty lungs didn’t grant him the strength to tell his usual white lie. He brought his hand to his left temple and attempted to ease his pain with a gentle massage. “I am afraid not,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with dehydration.

Basch’s smile fell. “I am sorry to hear that.” He looked down at a white envelope in his hand. “But perhaps this will lift your spirits.” He walked over to Larsa and handed it to him.

Upon taking it, Larsa immediately recognized the Queen of Dalmasca’s seal- but once he opened the envelope and pulled out its contents – a single-page letter – he knew it was not from Ashe. He recognized the soft, rounded ink strokes as Penelo’s handwriting. And as he looked over his friend’s delicate, yet whimsical penmanship, he could almost ignore the pain in his head.

After the war, everyone had parted ways. The year 706 was coming to a close, and Larsa worried he would not see or hear from Penelo ever again, so he sent out a letter in hopes to maintain their friendship. Just when he started to think she wasn’t planning on writing back, he received a reply, and they’ve been writing to each other ever since.

But before he could begin reading the letter, Basch had one more thing to say. “Just a reminder: your meeting with the Senate leaders will begin shortly. I will wait for you outside.”

“Thank you, Basch.” Larsa was truly grateful for all he did for him – especially now with this pounding head. He gave him a small smile, and as Basch took his leave, Larsa began to read the letter.

 

_Dear Larsa,_

_How are you these days? I overheard Archadian sky pirates from Balfonheim spreading rumors that you're falling ill, but I know it isn’t true; you’re one of the strongest people I know._

_Anyway, today I'm not writing to catch up. Ashe has assigned me to invite you to her twenty-fifth birthday celebration at the end of this week._

_I know you're busy, and have been for the past few years (five, right? Or is it six now?), but it would be nice to see you again. My troupe will be performing a new routine in Ashe’s honor. It should be our best performance yet!_

_I hope all is well with you. You're my best friend; please don’t forget that. If those rumors are true: please take care of yourself._

_Your friend who misses you,_

_Penelo_

 

Larsa’s lips curved into a tired, yet sincere smile. Penelo’s words warmed his heart – they always did. He hoped he had been able to do the same for her.

Guilt struck him like a blade to the chest – had he really been neglecting his friendship with Penelo?

It had been nearly three years since he last saw her – at Ashe’s birthday celebration as well. He had been invited every year, and he attended the first two. But every year after that, he had been far too consumed in his country to leave it. The reconstruction, expansion, and integration of Old Archades was a task far more overwhelming than Larsa could ever have imagined. The bill barely passed into law – a narrow victory with the Senate’s final vote at 14 – 11 in favor of the bill. Despite its status as a new district being passed into law, and its new name given, the district of Orbon, there were those who still saw it as Old Archades. To the gentry of Tsenoble, Orbon was a district designated for the poor, and they wanted nothing to do with it.

There was still so much classism, entitlement, stubbornness and materialism, and Larsa was losing his patience for all of it.

Immediately after his inauguration, Larsa had worked tirelessly day and night to bring this new district to the capital – all while helping Ashe with the reconstruction of Dalmasca. And yet for Larsa, it wasn’t enough. The Empire’s hands were still stained with blood, and there was still so much _work_ to do.

He supposed this was exactly why, after the war, he, Ashe and Al-Cid decided to form the Council of Ivalice: a gathering of leaders and ambassadors that met every year in hopes of promoting and maintaining peace. The meetings served as a time when leaders could learn from each other, but once a year wasn’t enough for him – not when he was still so young, and there was still much room for improvement.

A part of him wished he had someone to guide him, as Lord Al-Cid had his own father and brothers in Rozarria. And yet, he wished to forge his own path, as Lady Ashe seemed to be accomplishing so well. As a child, in times of doubt Larsa would turn to his father and brother. As the fourth and fifth Emperors born of House Solidor, Gramis and Vayne had built a great reputation - one that was far too heavy for Larsa to uphold on his own. Were they here, he would seek their council. However, they had left the world long ago; who was he to turn to now?

Larsa took a deep breath and exhaled a heavy sigh that relieved only a small fraction of the figurative weight he felt on his shoulders. He looked over Penelo’s words once more, and took them to heart. He gazed out the window to his left and saw a clear blue sky, and it reminded him of Dalmasca.

“Perhaps I overburden myself,” faintly, he verbalized thoughts he should have stated long ago. Recently, most of his thinking had been out loud – it was the only way any thought could stand out amongst the hoard of ideas, worries, plans, and regrets that crowded his mind every day. “But there is far too much progress to be made, if I am to build a better world.” His words reached no one’s ears but his own, and now more than ever before, he wished his friend was here to hear them.

A wave of peace washed over him as he gazed into the soft blue of the summer sky, and it was then he understood how someone could choose to live the life of a sky pirate – sometimes he wished he could just fly away from it all too.

But he couldn’t. He had that meeting with the Senate leaders to attend – one that he had been anticipating for months now. He wasn’t going to let anything stop him from introducing this next bill – not even this damned, pounding, _headache._

 

* * *

 

The Secondary Senate Chamber was a smaller, quieter version of the primary, and was used only for meetings between the Emperor and the four Senate leaders – including the Chairman. It was especially quiet this morning, as the chatter between the senators reached barely above a whisper. The gentle light of the morning sun peered in through the windows and softly blanketed the chamber in its warmth. During the days of Lord Gramis’s reign, Senate meetings were always shrouded in darkness – held in windowless rooms well hidden within the center of the palace – impossible for any Rozarrian spy to find. But on the day of Larsa’s first meeting with the Senate, the poor, dim light left his mind so clouded and unfocused, he did not hesitate to remove himself from the cave-like room, and asked the senators to join him in finding a chamber with proper lighting.

On this particular morning, however, Larsa wished he could reverse time and stop himself from making such a foolish decision. In front of him, Basch stepped forward to trigger the automatic doors to the Senate Chamber, which opened with a swift hiss _._ The sun’s rays were blades of steel to Larsa’s sensitized retinas – a symptom he commonly experienced during his headaches. Maintaining a pleasant expression on his face, he tried not to squint as he entered the room, instead settling on directing his gaze to the floor.

“Emperor Larsa of House Solidor,” Basch’s voice boomed through his helmet as he announced his arrival. Unfortunately for Larsa, sound was also amplified by his headaches, and every excruciating syllable of the announcement made his head pound harder.

The Senate leaders each silenced themselves and stood as Larsa entered the chamber, his boot-bound footsteps echoing off the walls as he strode. They did not sit again until Larsa took his seat at the head of the round table.

“Good morning, Senators,” Larsa greeted them calmly, masking the discomfort that pulsed in his eyes and head. “Thank you for joining me for today’s meeting.” As he spoke, Basch made his way around the table and handed to each senator a copy of a new bill. “Tis the first day of the month, and as such I thought it a time appropriate enough to introduce a new beginning for Archadia – one I hope will further our cause for peace. If you would all please turn to page one of the bill, I can begin the introduction.”

The senators removed their focus from Larsa and glanced at each other with a mixture of curiosity, caution and anticipation as they flipped over the cover pages of the bill. The sounds of rustling paper faded into silence, and Larsa began. “Fifty-First Imperial Senate – First Session,” Larsa took a deep breath, and the pounding of his heart calmed. “I.S. One-Thousand, Three-Hundred and Thirty-Three: For the purpose of abolishing the use of Chops as a signifier of status, a requirement for entry to the Imperial City of Archades, and all its districts.”

It was as if a bomb had been dropped in the Senate Chamber. Eyes widened and brows rose as senators sent messages of concern to each other with nothing more than sharp glances. Larsa could sense the newly created tension in the room, but he wasn’t going to allow the senators to object – not yet.

“We, the citizens of Archades, pride ourselves on our knowledge, yet we do not seek it beyond the walls of our own city. Our minds are trapped in our own country and culture, ignorant to the world around us. Allowing free entry into our city will open our minds to new information. This will grant us not only knowledge of facts, but understanding and compassion for those from other nations. These are important factors needed in order to promote and maintain the peace we have worked tirelessly to create between Archadia, and all of Ivalice.”

The moment of silence was interrupted by the sound of Chairman Garamondt clearing his throat. Willard Franck Garamondt was an older gentleman of sixty-five, and had been a member of the senate for almost twenty years. The senate appointed him Chairman after the death of Gregoroth, and he accepted the position with much respect.

“Your Excellency,” Garamondt’s voice was always coarse due to his frequent coughing. His gray eyes were wide, and his brows, just as gray, rose in alarm. “By introducing this bill, are you admitting that it is your full intention to abolish the Chop System in its entirety?”

Larsa looked Garamondt right in the eyes. “Yes, Chairman. That is my full intention.” It was then that Larsa pushed his chair back and stood, tossing protocol out those extremely bright windows. He began to saunter around the table, arms held behind his back. “In this time of peace, the Chop System has become outdated. Do not mistake me – I do believe it was established with noble intentions. To place importance on the value of knowledge and generosity is noble, however: it has come with a price.” Halfway through his circle, he stopped next to a window, the bright light from it compelling him to squint.

He turned, the eyes of the Senate watching him, and he continued his walk. “We have become a society obsessed with gaining power over others – aiding those in need only when there is something to be gained – and that is not _true_ generosity. Instead, it is a means to prove we are superior to those we help. Those with no chops are never granted any favors, and are thus perpetually at a disadvantage. That does not sit right with me – and it never has. It is time to end this.” Larsa found his seat and returned to it.

An irritatingly familiar baritone cut in. “Your Excellency – forgive me for my plainness – but this is _extreme._ ” A man of forty-five, this was only Bacchus Caine’s third term as Senator, and he had already proven himself fit to be elected a leader, to speak on behalf of the Senate. Perhaps it was his charisma, Larsa thought, or maybe his courage to speak as plainly as he did – too plainly, at times.

“I agree – it is,” Larsa admitted, “But I believe there are circumstances when we must be.”

“Your Lord Brother once held the same belief, if I recall correctly.” Caine responded, not hesitating to curve his lips into a victorious smirk. Vayne was a sensitive subject for Larsa, and he knew that.

Larsa narrowed his eyes out of annoyance now, rather than to keep the sunlight out. “The beliefs of my late brother bear no relevance to what we are discussing today.”

Caine’s smirk remained. “My apologies for venturing off subject, my lord.”

Chairman Garamondt cleared his throat with a rough _ahem_ , and the echo of it brought everyone back to focus. “Your Excellency, my main concern is with Title I of the bill – eliminating the chop requirements to enter the city. It lacks a replacement for the Chop System in terms of _security_. As I hope you can recall from your history lessons, the Chop System had more intended purposes than those you have mentioned.”

Of course there was, Larsa thought. Did they think he was still an ignorant child? But there was more than what was taught in formal history lessons – so much more. “Yes,” Larsa replied, “It was also created to discriminate and exclude.”

“What you call discrimination, we call _security,_ ” Garamondt challenged, “The Chop System was created to keep enemies _out_ – and it has proven successful for nearly two _centuries._ Not once since its enactment has our city been under threat. I see no reason to eliminate such an effective system – especially at a time when war is still fresh in the minds of our former enemies.”

 _Must he be so paranoid_? “And I see no reason to keep a security system that is unnecessary,” Larsa challenged, “We are at a time of peace. The Rozarrian Empire is no longer our enemy, as you said. House Margrace has loosened border security in their own capital – I feel we should do the same. My friendships with Lord Al-Cid and Lady Ashe hold strong – should either Rozarria or Dalmasca bear ill intent on us, I should hear of it through them.”

“Your Excellency,” Senator Caine intervened, and he was folding his arms now, resting his back fully against his chair. _How could he be so relaxed?_ “You may hold friendships with some of Ivalice’s leaders, but they do not represent everyone. Surely you don’t honestly believe that? Do you believe your policies represent the entirety of Archadia? It is my knowledge that they, and you, do not.”

 _How dare he?_ To veer from the subject and paint him as some naïve child?

But Caine wasn’t finished. “Furthermore – I understand that at your age, five years is quite a length of time. But to us, and many of our former enemies, warships flew the skies just yesterday.”

That was it. That was the last he could stand from Caine, the last he could stand of any rude interruptions, and the last he could stand from this pounding, piercing, _headache._

“I did not plan this meeting to be insulted for my youth.” Larsa had no patience to hide an irritable tone. He allowed his eyes to rest on the table. He couldn’t stand to look at it all – the sunlight that just got _brighter_ as the minutes passed, and that disgustingly smug smirk on Senator Caine’s face.

A soft sigh of fake regret left Caine’s lips. “Forgive me, your Grace – I have overstepped.”

Chairman Garamondt cleared his throat louder than he had all morning. “Disregarding the last of Senator Caine’s comment, I too am concerned with the possibility that we may have enemies Lord Al-Cid and Queen Ashe are unaware of. If we are to eliminate the entry fees to the city, I suggest we establish a new security system in its stead. We simply cannot be left without one. Do you remember, Your Excellency, when you swore on oath to Archadia to put the safety of its citizens first?”

“Of course I remember, Chairman, and that is what I intend to do.” Larsa’s calm tone completely masked his anger within. Of _course_ he remembered his inauguration. Of _course_ he remembered his promise to protect his people who he loved so dearly. _How dare anyone question his loyalty to his country?_

Larsa’s head pounded harder now, the pain so sharp it broke his composure. He closed his eyes, leaned forward onto the table and rested his face in his left hand, massaging his temples with thumb and forefinger. Breathing was all he had the strength to do. “We will find a solution to this I am sure,” he inhaled, “one that does not discriminate against those who wish us no harm.”

The newest Senate leader, Danfordt Brutias Rhys, finally broke his silence. The smooth hum of his voice was always a relief. “Your Excellency, are you alright?” he asked, “You look pale.”

Larsa inhaled a breath so deep it was audible to the Senate leaders. “I do not feel well,” he responded, and the room had begun to spin ever so slightly. He pushed his hand down on the table for support as he stood up. “Forgive me,” he breathed, “It appears I have neglected my health in this past month. It is unfortunate that I must postpone this meeting until further notice. Thank you for your time, Senators, and good day to you all.”

Larsa gladly left the Senate Chamber, not once glancing at the stunned faces that watched him.

Basch hastily followed him into the hallway. “My Lord, what happened?” He noticed Larsa was still massaging his left temple as he strode. “Your head – the pain is becoming more frequent, I fear.”

“Worry not; it will soon subside,” Larsa reassured him. “Basch, did you also receive an invitation from Lady Ashe?”

“Yes, I did,” Basch answered, and Larsa could hear in his voice that he didn’t understand why he would ask such a question at this moment.

“Well, I was thinking,” Larsa stopped and turned to gaze at the doors behind him. “Since it appears our Chairman thinks he can rule Archadia single-handedly, perhaps he would not mind should I leave the Empire’s burdens on _his_ shoulders for the next three days.” His lips curved into a mischievous smile no one saw.

“My lord – do you abandon your empire?” It was the concern in Basch’s voice that drove Larsa to turn around. He was far too worried about this, and Larsa was far too tired. He looked up at Basch with exhausted, pleading eyes.

“Basch - I have overburdened myself, and I do not wish to fall ill. If these three days can heal my mind and body, then this trip is no abandonment. Let us go; I would like to reach Dalmasca before nightfall.”

 

* * *

 

 

After a brief recess, Basch notified the Senate leaders of Larsa’s plan to depart to Dalmasca, and that their next meeting would be held the day after his return. His stay in the chamber was short, and he soon left to prepare for the flight.

Chairman Garamondt approached the round table, his expression contemplative. “Our young emperor cries of head pain and flees to Dalmasca. What are we to do with such a delicate flower?” He sighed as he took his seat.

“Chairman, do you speak ill of our emperor?” Rhys questioned.

“No,” Garamondt furrowed his brows. “I speak of _concern_ , Senator Rhys. Even so – this is no dictatorship. I am free to speak my mind, whatever I think.”

Rhys sighed and shook his head, the dark curls of his hair bouncing slightly along with the motion.

Garamondt leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, his hands clasped. He sighed. “I must admit, when his Excellency Lord Larsa was appointed Emperor, I had imagined he would be much more... compliant. He has grown to be a stubborn young man, much like his late brother.”

Calm and composed, Rhys sat up with a clean posture that contrasted the Chairman’s hunched shoulders. “That may be true, Chairman, but unlike Vayne, Lord Larsa does not thirst for war. Surely that is an improvement?” And when he saw Garamondt narrow his eyes, unconvinced, he continued. “It is also worth mentioning that it was _he_ who reinstated the Senate after Vayne’s demise.”

“Hmph,” Garamondt shook his head, “And for that we are grateful. However, let us not look past his faults. ‘Tis true he thirsts not for war, but neither does he prepare for it. The extent of his passivism could cost us lives in the event we were to be invaded. He has disbanded our military so greatly I fear even Dalmasca could invade us successfully. Lord Larsa may be a man now, but he is still young and naïve. He believes talks of peace are enough to shield us from attack.”

A cold snicker echoed across the chamber, inviting Rhys and Garamondt to follow it.

Bacchus Caine’s body shook with laughter.

“Oh? What say you, Senator Caine?” the Chairman commanded, eyes narrowed. He was too old to be dealing with the laughter of children.

Everyone could hear the smirk in Caine’s voice. “What say I? _Forgive me_ , but I say Lord Larsa is the most radical, unorthodox, _disrespectful_ emperor in Archadia’s history.”

The chamber went silent as all eyes watched Caine.

He didn’t let their looks of shock stop him from continuing. He sat upright and unfolded his arms. “He disregards our laws and traditions, weakens our military, and merges Old Archades with our capital – I fear he thinks himself dictator!” He shook his head. “Even his form of dress disrespects tradition – have you noticed his refusal to wear the Imperial diadem passed down from his late father? _Now he criticizes our Chop System?_ What other foundations does he wish to rip out from under us?”

The Senate leaders remained silent, mulling over his words.

“And now it would appear he is falling ill – I question if he can bear the burden of empire.” Caine crossed his arms, relaxing against his chair once again. He had spoken his piece.

A voice weak with age chimed in, “Yes, our young lord’s energy appears to be dropping.” At the ripe age of seventy-nine, Ronulas Willmundt was the oldest member of the Senate. “Some of you were not here when his mother was alive, but I recall she had her own illnesses. Lady Ellissa was a frail, skittish woman. She feared everything and everyone; she scarcely stepped foot outside the palace.”

Rhys furrowed his brows. “You worry our Emperor takes after his mother?”

Willmundt shook his head slightly. “I will not rule out the possibility. And from what I have seen, these illnesses take time to develop.”

The soft voices of Rhys and Willmundt were drowned out by the commanding echo of their Chairman. “ _Never mind what his mother was like_ ,” he snapped, “I am more concerned with this bill. We have much to discuss in the next three days; I suggest we begin immediately.”

Cain hastily interjected. “Chairman – I have one more concern, if I may.”

Garamondt sighed heavily. “ _Yes_ , if you will.”

“If his Excellency does fall ill – what are we to do without an Emperor?”

 

* * *

 

 

The Grand Hall of the Royal Palace of Rabanastre was impressive in its scale, but even more so in the details of the architecture. Larsa entered with Basch, craning his neck to admire the height of the entryway that towered over them. Royal guardsmen closed the doors behind them with a thunderous roar, the echo of it rippling through the air.

The tapping of footsteps against stone floors traveled from across the hall, and there she was – Queen Ashelia B’nargin Dalmasca – approaching to greet them. A post-war world had done wonders for her; she looked absolutely radiant.

“Welcome –  it is so good to see you again.” Her smile had widened to a grin when she met them in the center of the hall. “Larsa,” she greeted, and when she turned to regard the other man, she leaned in, “Basch.” She spoke softly, so his true name could not reach disloyal ears.

Basch removed the horned helmet from his head, revealing a grin of his own, and he was no longer the Judge Magister Gabranth. “My lady, it has been far too long.”

Ashe’s eyes met his. “It has,” she then turned to regard Larsa – looking _up_ now. If Larsa recalled correctly, they were the same height when he last visited. “Three years now, is it? Last we met, you were still a child.”

Guilt hit Larsa for the second time that day. He bowed his head. “I apologize,” he said softly, then lifted his gaze to face her again. “I mean to visit more often, however, matters in Archades have been… difficult, to say the least.”

Ashe gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have made much progress there; I am proud of you.” The tone in her voice was warm and reassuring, and it was just what he needed to hear.

“As am I,” Basch added, gladly placing his hand on Larsa’s other shoulder.

Larsa smiled humbly, glancing at each of them. “I thank you both – but I am afraid my work is never-ending.”

Ashe and Basch returned their hands to their sides. “Worry not of that now,” Ashe shook her head. “Your primary concern should be joining me for dinner. You two must be hungry after your flight.”

As she led them across the Grand Hall, for the first time in what felt like months, Larsa exhaled a sigh of relief.


	2. Amber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length of this chapter. There was some worldbuilding I had to get through!

Rabanastre’s Muthru Bazaar was _booming_.

The street was already filled with customers and merchants running about, even early on in the day; the bustle of it all sending clouds of dust and sand into the sunlit air. Some workers were setting up shop, while others had already made their first few sales. The shouts of merchants commanding their workers, the clinks of gil exchanged for goods, and the chatter of business was music to Larsa’s ears. Finally, he could escape from his own thoughts. His smile was as warm as the Dalmascan sunrise – he missed Rabanastre _so much._

The bazaar had grown since his last visit, tremendously so, he noticed, as he strolled through the twists and turns of the newly added streets. The most notable recent addition was a corner dedicated to the arts: paintings, tapestries, crafts, and more. He was drawn to it by the calming, passionate vibrations of a long reed flute, played by an elderly man sitting comfortably on a patterned rug on the ground. Larsa left a generous tip in the basket that sat next to him, and the musician smiled gratefully in return as he continued to play.

Thankfully, no one seemed to recognize him. While a few Archadian tourists gave him a second look, none of them thought their Emperor could possibly be walking through a marketplace in Rabanastre unannounced and unattended, and certainly not dressed so ordinarily. No one stared, pointed, or stopped him for questions. It was nice to finally be able to _breathe_.

A line of shops selling imports from Rozarria stood together. Dalmasca and Rozarria had grown close after the war, and it was evident in their free trade agreement. Larsa had to admit to himself that he was somewhat jealous of their alliance. Lady Ashe and House Margrace had managed to unify their countries through trade, while Archadia remained isolated in the north. After the damage inflicted by his country in the past generation, he wouldn’t blame them if they never wished for such an agreement with him.

Larsa strolled past a wide display of Rozarria’s top exports: bags of dried fruits and nuts, bottles of wine, fresh vegatables, long dresses with wide skirts that resembled ocean waves, steel weapons, and more wine. Larsa chuckled to himself at the sight of that last shop; Rozarria _was_ known for their large vineyards, and their love of wine was boundless.

Next, he came across a tea shop. On the counter stood a display of glass jars of loose tea, and pots ready with hot tea to sample. He overheard the merchant, a bangaa male with beige and purple skin, telling a customer that the leaves came from a variety of sources throughout Dalmasca and Rozarria, and he described the traditional uses for a few of them. Larsa wanted to know more.

After the merchant sold a bag of loose tea to the customer, Larsa asked him which of his teas was the most popular, and what their uses were. While most of the uses were interesting, they were of no relevance to him, except for one.

“…and this one here relieves stress.” The merchant explained, and Larsa’s eyes widened.

“Truly?”

“Yes it does, Sir!” The merchant gestured to a jar filled with a mixture of pink flower petals, dark green leaves and various spices. “The flowers of the Estersand cactoids cure many ailments. They have a bit of a calming effect, so one of its most popular uses is to aid in sleep. This tea is a blend of the cactoid flower with other herbs that can calm the muscles.”

Sleep sounded _amazing._ “Excellent!” Larsa decided, “I would like to purchase a month’s worth.”

The bangaa’s eyes lit up. “Of course, Sir!” After happily accepting Larsa’s payment – along with a tip for his efforts – he handed over a tin canister a bit longer than Larsa’s hand.

Just after Larsa took the canister, he heard a familiar voice from his left.

“Larsa?”

He turned his head towards the voice. In the morning sunlight, a cloud of dust dissipated, revealing a familiar face. Skin tanned from the sun met with short, feathery blonde hair, and an infectious grin.

“Hello, Vaan.” Larsa approached his old friend and greeted him with a smile.

Vaan clapped his hand onto Larsa’s shoulder, and the younger man almost lost his balance – a testament to how much Vaan’s strength had increased over the years. “I can’t believe it’s you! You’re here for Ashe’s birthday too, right?”

Larsa chuckled. He missed Vaan’s exuberance. “’Tis good to see you, Vaan,” he greeted, “and yes.”

Vaan let go of his shoulder. “Great! I just finished a hunt on my way back from Rozarria. Do you remember those panthers we fought in Golmore Jungle? It was like those but three times as big! Ashe was worried it would cause trouble with our imports, so she sent me. Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting?”

“I apologize for not sending out a letter; I had just received my invitation yesterday.”

Vaan’s eyebrows rose. “Wow – Penelo’s been slacking on her letter-writing duties.”

 _Penelo._ Just hearing her name warmed his heart. He chuckled once more, shaking his head. “I do not blame her. She told me she and her troupe have been working tirelessly on a routine for Lady Ashe’s birthday.”

Vaan nodded hastily. “Yeah – it’s coming along great! They’re doing a performance in the plaza in a few hours. Wanna check it out?”

Larsa’s grin spread wide as he nodded. “Absolutely!”

“Alright!” Vaan’s smile faded and he folded his arms as he looked down at Larsa, studying him. “Hey – I thought you’d be taller by now. Are they feeding you up there?”

Larsa raised his brows – he wasn’t expecting that. But then again, Vaan always spoke plainly, didn’t he? Larsa had grown taller since they last met, but so had Vaan.  He chuckled. “Yes, I am well-fed, thank you. Why?”

Vaan shrugged. “I just thought you would have looked more like Vayne. But I guess things don’t always turn out the way you expect, huh?”

Larsa smiled sheepishly. “I suppose in that regard I do not take after the men of my family. I was always told my mother was quite short, so I’m afraid I have almost reached my limit. Are you disappointed?”

Vaan nudged him in the arm. “Nah – You’re fine the way you are.” And in that moment, Larsa returned his smile, humbled to have him for a friend – humbled to be here. “Hey, why don’t we get some breakfast in you?” Vaan offered, “You look like you need it.”

When Larsa agreed, Vaan led him away from the tea shop, and they joined the current of market-goers.

 

* * *

 

 

The midday sun burned high in the sky, fierce and unrelenting. Yet despite its sweltering gaze, much of the town was gathered around the plaza, too entranced by a performance to notice their own parched tongues and trickling sweat. Behind Vaan, Larsa weaved through the crowd of Rabanastrans, following the deep vibrations of heavy drums that resonated in his bones. He recognized the sounds from previous visits – some were deep _dums_ played with less beats, while others were higher pitched _teks_ played with high intensity and swiftness.

Larsa glanced at humes, seeqs, bangaa, moogles and viera as he passed through, admiring their grins as they enjoyed the show. Adults applauded and their children jumped and played and tried to copy the performers’ movements. Women whooped and yelped in a way that was meant only for this type of dance. The energy was moving, and Larsa felt a sense of pride and love stir within him, beckoning his heart to match the swift beats of the drums.

Vaan found a clearing on the third row of the plaza steps, and that’s when Larsa could finally see the performers. The Dancing Galbanas had become Dalmasca’s most popular troupe, and it was evident in the passion and skill the dancers put into each movement. They all wore matching costumes in the bold red hue of the native flowers they were named for.

In the front row, a dancer spun in rhythm to the drums, her long blonde hair flowing in the air like a wave of sand.

_Penelo._

No matter how many years had passed, he could recognize his best friend anywhere.

 “They’re amazing, huh?” Vaan raised his voice to challenge the surrounding acclamation.

“Absolutely!” Larsa nodded, smiling.

“They’re so good now – Penelo says they’re thinking about touring across Dalmasca.”

Larsa raised his eyebrows. “ _Truly_?” He returned his eyes to the dancers, and a feeling of pride swelled in his heart for Penelo. While he was cooped up in a palace trying to govern a post-war Archadia, Penelo had built an empire of her own. But an empire did not simply stay in one place, did it? It only grew. “Why stop at Dalmasca?” he questioned, “They should tour across Ivalice. I would love to see them perform in Archades.”

Vaan pulled his eyes away from the swaying hips of red and gold. “Archades?” His smile twisted into something uncertain. “I don’t know about that – unless you can waive the chop fees for them, as honored guests or something.”

Larsa couldn’t stop himself. “Soon chops will be nothing to worry about.” He probably shouldn’t have said that, but he was so full of bliss he cared not.

Either Vaan couldn’t hear him over the drums and cheers, or he was surprised. “ _What_?”

Larsa shouldn’t have been saying this in the first place, let alone shouting it. He leaned closer to Vaan’s ear so he could speak normally. “I hope you can keep a secret, Vaan.”

“Of course!” Vaan exclaimed, and Larsa jumped in his seat at the volume. He really _shouldn’t_ be doing this, but Vaan was his friend, and he wanted to tell _someone_ about it.

He leaned in to Vaan’s ear once more. “I have introduced to the Senate a bill that would abolish the Chop System.” He backed away, and saw Vaan’s eyes go wide.

“ _No,_ ” Vaan exhaled, “This is huge! _Do you know what this means?_ ”

“Yes,” Larsa answered, “Archades would be open to the world.”

Vaan rubbed his nose with a side-to-side motion of his index finger, the way he always did. “To say the least, yeah.”

“If only the Senate shared your enthusiasm; they did not seem too pleased with my announcement.”

“ _Pfft,_ ” Vaan waved his hand in dismissal, “Don’t listen to those old geezers.”

For the first time that week, Larsa laughed.

The speed of the drums intensified, and the dancers followed. They snapped their hips faster, gradually, until they reached a full shimmy – the gold coin sashes on their hips jingled along with the swift tempo. With their hips maintaining the rhythm, the dancers raised their arms above their heads slowly, gracefully, like birds preparing to take flight. With fingers pointed, their hands twirled in smooth, circular motions – a pair of hypnotizing whirlpools. The twirls continued as arms floated down, down, until hands masked their faces. Whirlpools became waves, separating to expose alluring eyes.

Larsa felt a tap on his shoulder bring him out of his trance. Vaan was looking at him now. “Hey Larsa, you see that woman over there? In the first row, on the left side of Penelo – the one with the dark hair?”

Larsa’s eyes searched the front row of dancers and saw a woman with hair far darker than any Dalmascan he had ever seen. “Yes.”

Vaan returned his hand to his side. “That’s Madelena – she’s one of Penelo’s students. She looks different than other Dalmascans, doesn’t she? That’s ‘cause her father is from Rozarria.”

“I see.” Larsa studied the dancer’s confident composure, and couldn’t imagine the persecution she must have endured while Dalmasca was under imperial rule – when her father’s country was the enemy. It was more guilt he would bear with his heavy heart.

Vaan leaned in to Larsa’s ear. “Imagine an Ivalice where no one is seen as foreign, or different, because we’re all a part of each other. No one is seen as worth more or less than the other. Your bill can take part in creating that future.”

Larsa smiled – finally someone understood.

Penelo spun once more, this time with an elegant, red silk veil in her hands, and it appeared to gently float in the air behind her. She was so strong, so graceful, and in a state of absolute bliss.

“Precisely. That is my exact vision.”

 

* * *

 

 

Penelo was content.

After the war ended, Ashe was crowned Queen, and for the first time, Penelo felt it was possible to see a bright future for Dalmasca. Buildings damaged by the _Bahamut’s_ wrath were restored. Imperials returned home, leaving Dalmasca with its freedom. Penelo would never forget the years of hardship she endured under the Empire, but with Ashe leading the way, she knew she could at least move on.

Once the city was fully restored, and there were no more reconstruction projects she could help with, Penelo had returned to her love of dance. She began with solo performances on the streets of Rabanastre’s rapidly growing bazaar, and much to her delight, the mixed crowd of locals and tourists were quite taken with her. Soon, she reunited with her former mentor, Malikah, who had taught her to dance when she was a little girl. In her mid-forties now, Malikah still remained fit and full of youthful energy. She had dark skin and a thin frame, as she resembled her uncle, Old Dalan. The two women danced together every afternoon in the bazaar, and every week the crowd of onlookers would grow until merchants began complaining about blocking access to their shops.

In search of a new place to perform, they danced all around the city: by the fountain at the gates, the east end shopping district, the North End and beyond. They also ventured down to Lowtown, which had been revamped – it no longer reeked of sewer water, and was filled with new homes and shops that finally had the gil to get cleaned up. It was a popular hangout spot, especially on days when the summer’s heat was most unforgiving. After a day of impromptu performances in the underground district, Penelo and Malikah found the perfect room to use as a dance studio. Tucked in a corner behind Selva’s Shawarmas and Temel’s Textiles, the vacant room was long and spacious, with the smoothest floor in Lowtown. With the money they saved up, they bought it.

Soon after, their street performances grew into mini parades as more dancers began to join them. Women of all ages, as well as children orphaned from the war, looking for a family, joined their dances every day. Why not, then, use this energy to form Rabanastre’s first dance troupe since the death of King Raminas?

And so their numbers grew to over thirty, and Penelo began to see them as her family. Along with Malikah, she spent countless hours teaching her fellow troupe members new dance techniques in the Lowtown studio, while honing her own skills – not just of dance, but of leadership.

The Dancing Galbanas had come so far in the last five years, and now they were hired to perform for the Queen herself. Penelo wanted this performance to be their best yet, and so they had practiced every day for the last three weeks.

The sounds of the drums came to a halt, and each of the dancers ended the routine with a playful pose. They received a roaring applause from the audience, complete with cheers and whistles. Each dancer returned the love by gracefully blowing a kiss to the entire crowd.

Penelo gave her mentor a high five. “Good show! You were great!”

“As were you! I think we’re just about ready for the show!” Malikah’s grin was as bright and infectious as her energy. “See you for rehearsal tomorrow?”

“Of course!” Penelo nodded, and she watched as her mentor turned around and gathered the dancers for a pep talk.

The crowd dispersed, and as men, women and children left the plaza to return to their daily lives, Penelo stood there and absorbed it all in. She watched as Malikah cheerfully congratulated each of the Dancing Galbanas, their smiles outshining the sweat on their foreheads. And as they drank their water, chatted and laughed, Penelo smiled – seeing the fruits of her love and labor filled her heart with warmth and pride.

“Hey Penelo!” The most familiar voice in Ivalice called her. _Vaan is here?_ Penelo turned around to see her brother-figure approach her. _He seems awfully excited…_

“Vaan – what are you doing here?” She embraced him in greeting, then let go. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tonight?”

He shrugged as a playful smirk graced his lips. “Ashe underestimated my abilities,” he chuckled. “Looks like you guys are ready for the show tomorrow; that was great!”

“Thanks Vaan.” Penelo smiled humbly. It was then that she noticed Vaan was not alone. A young man appeared in the corner of her eye. “And who is-”

She darted her eyes slightly just to _glance_ at the man standing next to Vaan, but she ended up staring. He felt strange, yet familiar, and in that first split second, Penelo’s brain didn’t know how to process what she was looking at. The ash-colored tint to his brown hair was familiar, but his height was not. A pair of uniquely arched eyebrows tapered around eyes blue as a summer’s sky. A newly defined square jaw and pronounced cheekbones contrasted with a sincere smile that felt like a home she hadn’t returned to in years.

“Larsa?” She guessed, and she knew.

The young man’s smile grew wider. “Hello, Penelo.” His voice was deeper now, but just as smooth and elegant as it always was.

Penelo gasped, her voice muffled under her hands. “Oh my goodness…”

She stepped forward and swiftly embraced him; nestling her face in his shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she saw Vaan disappearing to speak with the other dancers.

She couldn’t believe Larsa was here with her now. When she sent that letter, she knew not to hope for too much, for she would be met only with disappointment. But when she could hear his breathing and feel his heartbeat against her, she was ecstatic. He was really _here._ “It’s been so long – I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“And that is no one’s fault but my own, Penelo,” She heard in his voice a sorrow that stirred deep within. “Will you forgive me?”

She gently released him from her grasp. Would she forgive him? What was there to forgive?

She shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. I know how busy you’ve been.” She noticed his eyes darting about, as if searching for the truth behind her answer – as if her words were not truth enough. Perhaps if she smiled, that would reassure him.

The smile proved effective, and infectious. “I saw your performance just now; it was incredible!”

Penelo felt her heart beat faster. She wished she knew he had been watching; she would have performed better. But it was a relief to know he enjoyed it anyway. “Thank you,” she said, “We’ve been rehearsing a lot to prepare for Lady Ashe’s birthday. Of course, the final routine will be different than this one.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

“So you _are_ here for Lady Ashe’s birthday. You got my letter, right?”

“I did – and yes, primarily. However, there are other reasons.” _So vague_ , Penelo thought. But, Larsa _did_ like to keep his secrets. She would have to get all the information out of him somehow.

“Well, how about you tell me all about it over lunch? There’s this new place that’s popped up since you last visited. There have been a _lot_ of new places, actually, but this one’s my favorite.”

She watched his lips curl into a soft smile, and then parted, revealing impeccably ivory teeth. “Of course,” he answered, nodding once, with the most grace Penelo had ever seen anyone nod with. His bangs fell slightly with the motion, framing his left eye perfectly.

That boyish charm of his had matured into something different now – something that made her heart begin to thump with more intensity. And this time, her heart did not race for fear of war.

 _Breathe,_ she reminded herself.

 

* * *

 

 

It was surreal to be with her again – and although they remained close throughout the years, there was something unfamiliar about the woman beside him.

In her letters, Penelo told Larsa about the success of her troupe, and how happy she had become since her dreams came true. But no words she wrote could describe to him the extent of which it had changed her.

When Larsa met her all those years ago, she was scared – of the judge that would punish her, but also, of a world at war, where the destruction of everything she loved could happen at any given moment. She was timid, and hesitant – but she was also strong, and her endurance for life knew no bounds. And so, with determination, Penelo carried on, and now, as she led him to wherever her heart willed, Larsa found no trace of fear in her.

As a dancer, her posture was always excellent, but now it appeared even more so, aided by her newfound confidence. Her poise rivaled that of a queen. She held her chin high, elongating her neck, and there was no slouch to her shoulders, even in her relaxed state. The strength with which she carried herself matched well with the lightness of her steps, and the graceful sway of her hips. She was no longer the girl he met; now she was a self-assured, radiant woman – a galbana lily in full bloom.

She looked as though she owned the very ground she walked on, and yet-

When she turned her head to look at him, with excitement in her smile, and sincerity in her eyes, it felt as though she was making sure that he was just as thrilled; and if he wasn’t, she would find a way to make it so. Beneath her newfound power and influence, she was still the girl who was willing to put the happiness of others above her own.

And he would always love that about her.

Penelo brought him to the North End of Rabanastre, where, Larsa noticed, quite a number of high-end shops and restaurants had emerged. They approached a series of pillared archways cut into the stone of new Dalmascan architecture.

 _The Ambervale_ was a restaurant that served only Rozarrian cuisine, and was owned by the noble House Margrace. Larsa stopped to admire the wide archways that allowed natural light to enter the building. His eyes followed the sunlight to the floors of grey stone imported from Rozarria. Pristine white table cloths and walls contrasted dark wooden tables and chairs. Across the room was a bar with a white marble countertop. And behind that, a fully-stocked wooden wine rack stood tall from floor to ceiling.

Larsa stood in awe at the fact that this restaurant even _existed_. _Lord Al-Cid was a busy man_ , he thought. What more of Rozarrian culture had emerged here?

Penelo noticed he stopped, and turned around, frowning. “What’s wrong?” she asked, “You don’t like Rozarrian food? We could go somewhere else.”

Larsa blinked and shook his head. “No, no, this is fine. I am simply admiring the place.”

Penelo gave him an amused smile. “Well then – let’s find somewhere to sit.” She reached back and took his hand without a trace of shyness, her skin smooth and warm against his.

A young waitress caught eyes with them. “Here for lunch again, Penelo? Go ahead and take whichever seat you want.”

After a brief “thank you,” Penelo turned to Larsa. “I normally wouldn’t eat at a place this expensive so regularly, or at all. But ever since I started working for Ashe they’ve been feeding me for half the price. Of course, that just means I tip more.”

The restaurant was pleasantly quiet compared to the booming acclamation of the town plaza. Only a few guests were seated, as this was just before the lunchtime rush. Penelo chose for them a small circle table close to the archways, and they each sat across from the other. The waitress who greeted them appeared once more, this time with a glass pitcher, pouring cold water into their goblets. Penelo immediately took her glass and tilted her head back, gulping her water audibly.

“Hard day of dance, Penelo?” The waitress teased, amused by Penelo’s shameless display of summer-induced thirst. She cocked her hip to the side and tilted her head slightly, her short auburn hair shifting with the movement.

Penelo placed her empty goblet down. “Of _course_ , Sadi, we’re practicing for the Queen!”

Sadi giggled as she poured her another glass. “You work too hard.” Then, she turned to regard Larsa with curious eyes. “And who’s this?”

Penelo glanced at him before her lips pulled into a smirk. “Oh this is my friend. He’s visiting all the way from Archadia; his name is _Lamont_.” And when she spoke his alias, she smiled at him as if keeping his secret was her absolute favorite thing to do.

Larsa greeted the waitress with a soft, “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Sadi.”

Sadi smiled politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Lamont, and welcome to Dalmasca! Would you two like to place your orders now, or do you need a few minutes?”

“I’ll have my usual – and one for _Lamont_ , too.” Penelo winked at Larsa, and he had to stifle a laugh.

Sadi took their orders and headed towards the kitchen with a spring in her step.

Larsa gladly took a sip of water, a much needed relief from the Dalmascan summer heat. When he lowered his glass, he noticed Penelo’s honey-brown eyes on him, relaxed in a smile.

He didn’t think it was possible, but she was even more stunning now than she was before.

“You look great, Larsa,” she said.

Did he? He didn’t think much about that sort of thing.

Penelo’s smile fell as she leaned in to take a closer look at him. “Those dark circles under your eyes are concerning though. You haven’t had much sleep lately, have you?”

He was stunned. Penelo always noticed the little things – details he could never hope to pay attention to. It was a quality he always admired about her.

He sighed, “I am afraid not. Almost every night this past week, I have had this recurring nightmare.”

Penelo leaned forward, her elbows on the table, and rested her chin upon her clasped hands. “Tell me.”

It was then he realized just how much he missed having someone in his life with whom he could truly confide in. While Basch knew of his nightmares, Larsa didn’t wish to distract him from his duties as a Judge Magister, nor did he wish to burden him. However, it was different with Penelo. When he was with her, she had a way of making him feel that his problems were a top priority, and he was safe to let his guard down. Although she was always blunt with her honesty, she was also gentle enough not to crush his spirit. Larsa needed that balance, he realized; he needed _her._

He had never told this to anyone yet. “The day we fought against my brother, he spoke to me much of leadership. He warned me of the consequences of not having the strength to rule.”

“And he does this in your dream?”

“Yes,” Larsa took another sip of water. “But not once in five years has he appeared in my dreams – why now?”

Penelo shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he represents something. Malikah says sometimes dreams try to bring our attention to something we have to fix in our lives. But of course, only the dreamer can figure out what that is.”

Larsa nodded. _Something that needs to be fixed? But what?_ Was he not already aware of all the world’s problems? Was that awareness not the cause of all his stress-induced head pain?

“Larsa,” Penelo’s stern voice pulled him out of a potentially endless spiral of thoughts, her eyes piercing like an overprotective cockatrice mother. “Has the Senate been giving you a hard time?”

He had to explain it to her. No way was she going to let him get away with not telling her more, and he knew that. “Our disagreements have become more frequent. They are relentlessly resistant to change – the Chairman, especially. And Senator Caine… I always find myself with a headache whenever I speak to him. He has no _respect_ for me, and I have no idea how to deal with that. And none of them seem to share my vision for a new Archades …”

“New Archades?” Penelo sat up.

_Oh, not again._

Larsa looked down, smiling at himself and shaking his head. “It appears I cannot contain my secrets today.”

“ _Please tell me_ ,” she pleaded. With those eyes of hers, widened and beautifully curious, how could he not comply?

He took a deep breath, and spoke quietly. “I have introduced a bill that would abolish the Chop System.”

Why was it that every time he introduced this idea, it was as if he had casted a stop spell? Was it truly that drastic? Penelo was speechless and wide-eyed. Her hands had covered her mouth and nose – her habitual gesture she made whenever she was shocked. He noticed _some_ things.

He could hear her inhale, finally. “Larsa, that’s incredible!” At last, her shock seemed to have melted into joy, and then she was laughing. _Laughing?_ “I always hated that Chop System! Do you know how difficult it was to get into Archades? We didn’t even get in legally – we had to sneak in – _and we had help!_ ” Her body shook, and she laughed until she snickered.

He must have looked distraught, because as soon as she caught his eye, she stopped immediately. “I’m sorry.” She bowed her head in shame.

Larsa sighed. “I know how deeply flawed the system is, and I am ashamed to have waited this long to do something about it. It is _I_ who should apologize.”

“Don’t,” Penelo shook her head. “You’re challenging a system that has been in place for generations. If it were me, I would take a long time to build up the courage to do that – if I ever could. I always thought you were brave, Larsa.”

Larsa felt his hand suddenly blanketed in warmth. Penelo’s hand was on his, and he glanced up to see her returning his gaze with a soft smile.

Her voice was stern and tender all at once. “Hey – if those Senators doubt your abilities: they’re absolutely wrong.”

Her words were exactly what he needed. A smile graced his lips, and it faltered in doubt, until he allowed it to grow. He looked down, humbled. “Thank you, Penelo.” She removed her hand from his, her smooth fingertips brushing against his skin in the motion.

But… this had all been about _him_ , hadn’t it? How could he allow himself to be so selfish?

He looked into her eyes. “What of you? How is your troupe? Vaan tells me you wish to tour across Dalmasca.”

Penelo beamed, and once again Larsa found himself shaken by her beauty.

“Yes, we do!” she nodded enthusiastically. “Well, _Malikah_ is planning for our troupe to tour. She’s really ambitious.” The joy in her voice was hesitant, and she was nodding a bit _too_ much – something wasn’t quite right. “And Madi’s _super_ excited about it, Dion too, but…”

“You do not wish to go?” Larsa knew. She didn’t have to say it.

Penelo’s forged smile faded, her eyes lowered, and her head turned to the side. “I guess… not really,” she returned her eyes to him. “Don’t get me wrong – I love to dance. I love performing and teaching, and I love my troupe,” she shook her head. “But I’m not sure if I can commit to a tour.” She looked so _guilty._ Larsa knew that feeling well.

“Oh? Why not?”

Penelo shrugged with frustration. “I just feel like – there’s something else I’m supposed to be doing? I’m not even sure what that is yet, to be honest.” She reached behind her neck to grab her hair, all of which had been weaved into a single braid. She pulled the braid over her shoulder, and gently pulled at it with one hand, then the other, in a habitual manner. “I feel like I’m supposed to be doing _more_ – like this isn’t enough. Is that so wrong for me to think? This was more than I could ever ask for…”

Larsa shook his head. “Not at all. Your feelings are never invalid, Penelo. There is no shame in striving for more – in Archades, for example, it is actually a _requirement,_ ” he chuckled. “And I believe there is no immunity to feeling lost – I share that feeling, especially now. We all have our limitations – we are, as they say, only humes.”

Penelo let go of her hair and narrowed her eyes at him. “Including _you_ , Mister under-slept and overworked.”

Chuckling nervously, Larsa held his head in shame of his hypocrisy.

“You _do_ know there’s medicine to help you sleep, right?”

“Yes!” Grinning, his head perked up. “I purchased some this morning.” He opened his leather bag to retrieve the canister of tea leaves he had purchased at the bazaar, and proudly placed it on the table.

Penelo grabbed the canister and pulled off the lid, her eyes studying the contents within. “Cactoid flower,” she smiled, nodding. Then, she briefly closed her eyes and inhaled the subtle fragrance. “I used to make this tea for soldiers when they returned home from the war.” She closed the lid and looked at Larsa. “You must be fighting battles of your own, then.”

How did she manage to put into words exactly what he was feeling?

But enough about him. “Yes – but even so, there is no reason I should be unable to help my friend. Penelo, should there be any manner in which I can help you find your way, please let me know.”

She smiled softly. “Thank you, Larsa, but I think that’s something I have to discover on my own.”

“Of course. But I want you to know, I am here for you, even just to lend an ear.”

Penelo smiled for a moment, and then gave him a stern look. “Hey. I’m here for you _too_ , you know. _We all are_.”

 

* * *

 

 

After lunch, they parted ways – for Penelo was a busy girl, juggling what seemed like a few different jobs, between her troupe and Ashe’s court.

For the remainder of the day, Larsa busied himself with exploring all the new additions to the city. He started with the new apartments and shopping district in the North End, then continued to the completely revamped Lowtown – which was quite impressive, and a much-needed relief from the unbearable Dalmascan summer. And, he noticed, despite the sweltering heat, and bright light of the sun’s rays, his head did not hurt for a single second. What _bliss._

When the sun began its descent, Larsa admired the brilliant hues of red, orange, yellow, and pink that painted the evening sky as he took a leisurely stroll towards the Royal Palace. He turned his head and gazed off into the horizon, where he could see the distant hills and mountains of the Westersand glow in shades of bronze and amber. From where he stood, it was a sea of pure, glistening gold; the desert truly had the most stunning sunsets.

He wished this beautiful day had no end. He wished he could live like this every day – with his friends, and in a relaxed state of mind. If only…

But he knew he couldn’t. He had a duty and a purpose in Archades, in his country, and indirectly, all of Ivalice. On his throne in the Imperial Chamber, on his seat at the head of the Senate round tables – that was where he belonged.

As he got closer to the front steps of the Royal Palace, he saw someone standing there. It appeared Dalmasca’s Queen also admired the sunset, and it returned the favor, for she looked absolutely radiant in its warm glow.

“Lord Larsa,” she called out to him. “I see you have been out all day. Did you enjoy your time?” He approached her until he could see the warm light gleam on her grin.

“Yes – so much so that I must admit, I wish this day had no end.”

“Well perhaps I can extend the day for you. Will you walk with me for a while? It would be a shame to miss this sunset.” She gestured outward, directing Larsa’s vision to a path that curved around the palace.

Larsa nodded. “That sounds excellent.”

“And once we finish this path, and the sun has set, we can continue our walk in the courtyard. Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

They were a quarter way around the palace, and the sunset was transitioning from red and orange to pink and violet.

Larsa looked at Ashe. “I want to congratulate you; I have never seen Dalmasca so prosperous.”

Ashe smiled humbly and nodded. “Thank you, but I cannot claim all credit to myself. I owe much of Dalmasca’s success to her people. A Queen is nothing without the support of those who follow her.”

“Your people are wonderful. And it cannot go on without mention that your economy is _thriving._ Today I had the pleasure of visiting the Muthru Bazaar; it must have _tripled_ in size. Penelo showed me the new restaurants in the North End, and what you have done with Lowtown is _astounding._ ” Larsa couldn’t help but gush over his friend’s progress. She was a leader worth aspiring to be like.

Larsa’s grin fell. “Your country has progressed much, while I fear Archadia remains stuck in the past.”

Ashe glanced at him with a wry smile. “Much of your Senate is _from_ the past.”

Chuckling, Larsa shook his head in disappointment of himself. “I refuse to blame them for their age as they blame me for mine. I am no hypocrite.”

“Forgive my poor sense of humor,” she apologized. “Although I must say: Dalmasca’s success is quite a relief.”

“I can only imagine how much so.” He really only _could_ imagine. He had no experience of what it was like to be on the other side of that war. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke next. “Lady Ashe – I must confess your birthday celebration is not the only reason I am out here.”

Ashe hummed in understanding. “I figured as much. A busy emperor such as yourself would not have free time to spare on such frivolities.”

“A celebration for a queen like you is no frivolity.”

“You flatter me.”

Larsa’s gaze fell to the floor as he hid his guilt. “But I do apologize for my absence the last two years. I have no excuse, but I ask for your forgiveness anyway.”

Ashe shook her head slowly. “No need, Larsa, you are forgiven. Now tell me, what other reason have you come all this way?”

He returned his eyes to her. “I am here to seek your advice.”

Ashe raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Oh? You flew all the way out here merely to seek my advice? Surely you could have sent out a letter?”

Embarrassed at her teasing, Larsa grasped for any way to defend his pride. “There are many reasons why I am here.”

Ashe sighed in defeat. “Alright. What is this advice you seek?”

“As you know of my bill,” as Vaan and Penelo _also_ knew, much to his chagrin, “I am to abolish the Chop System – but I cannot do so without the support of the Senate. It is an ambitious bill; that much I understand. After all, I can imagine it would be difficult to persuade someone to relinquish the chops they have rightfully earned. But I cannot just stand by and allow a corrupt system to continue. I cannot have another Old Archades.”

Ashe nodded as she contemplated his troubles. “Believe me, Larsa, I understand why you wish to rid of it so. After all, I myself had to bypass the law in order to enter the city.”

“And it is unfortunate you and your party had to resort to those means, and I am sorry. ‘Tis a risk I would wish on no one.”

“’Tis no matter now,” Ashe waved her hand in dismissal. “But Larsa, to aid you in convincing your Senators to rid of the Chop System’s daily usage is a task I cannot do. After all, we have no such system here, so I am afraid I do not have the knowledge to find a solution for you.” And when Larsa brought his gaze to the ground, discouraged, Ashe had this to offer, “However, in regards to opening the gates, I have an idea.” Larsa perked his head up again. “It seems to me as though your Senators simply fear the unknown, as we all do. All they require is to be educated – perhaps, by someone from outside their walls.”

 “I agree,” Larsa said, “which is one of the reasons why I drafted the bill, but they refuse to take heed of me.”

 Ashe’s eyes narrowed in thought. “We should start smaller. I can imagine the idea of a swarm of newcomers marching into the city would intimidate _anyone_. If we introduce them to one person that could be the beginning.”

“Just what are you implying?”

“I could send an Ambassador with you to Archades, perhaps to spread an interest in Dalmascan culture. They could live in the Imperial Palace – for let’s say, a month’s time. They will be close to your Senators, and charm their way into their hearts – like the old wildsnake charmers of Giza.” Ashe chuckled, pleased by her own idea, “At least, that is how it worked here.”

“Pardon?”

Ashe smiled as though she had a secret that she must not tell. “How else do you think the presence of Rozarrian culture has emerged here of late? That Al-Cid speaks with a tongue smoother than the surface of the Nebra.”

Larsa cringed. He did not wish to know the extent of Al-Cid’s methods of diplomacy.

She must have seen the disgust on his face, because she started laughing. “I digress – But Larsa: I do not say this in jest.  If I send an ambassador, they can help you in your cause. Do not doubt the impact it could have.”

He was well aware of the impact the presence of a foreign ambassador could have on his people, and it wasn't good. He could imagine a thousand different paths to the most unfortunate outcomes, but how could he say it lightly? “It is not the _impact_ I doubt; it is my people. There are those in my country who still believe Dalmascans are beneath them. Your ambassador might be treated... _unfairly._ ”

But this did not seem to hinder the queen's persistence, as a small smirk graced her lips. “Then I shall send someone strong,” she countered.

“They might get homesick,” Larsa said, noting how silly it sounded, but he was desperate.

Ashe sighed, frustration seeping through her composure. “Larsa, it would help if you _believed_ this could work!”

“I am merely taking caution. I could not forgive myself should any harm come to your ambassador during their assignment to aide me.”

His attempts to thwart her plan were futile, he knew, as the determination in her smile and tone was unwavering. “I appreciate your concern, Larsa, but I can assure you the person I have in mind can handle themself.” Satisfied with her defense, she held her chin high as she tore her gaze from him, away from the battlefield.

Larsa didn't want to lose, and he didn't want these horrible visions of an ill-received ambassador to become a reality. “Even so,” He began, but Ashe would not let him finish that thought.

“ _Larsa_ ,” she stopped, and so did he. Her easygoing smile had gone, and her arms were crossed. _Oh no._ “How can your people let go of the past if their Emperor cannot do it himself? _Give them a chance,_ and they may surprise you. If my mentality had not changed since the day you and I met those years ago, had I not let go of my lust for power and revenge, would my country be well off as it is now? How could I pass a free-trade agreement with Rozarria when I trusted _no_ Empire, no matter their name? Would any of us still _be here_ , had I given in to my will for revenge and used the Sun-Cryst against Archadia?”

With that, the Queen of Dalmasca disarmed him of all words, and he was forced to surrender.

“We know your people must change their minds, that much is certain. But as Emperor, _you must lead by example_. That is the only way in which you can gain their respect and support.” Ashe uncrossed her arms, and turned around. “The sun has appeared to have set. Walk with me to the courtyard, Larsa, and I will discuss with you the full extent of my plan.”

Larsa followed her with full obedience and haste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a kudo and a comment if you enjoyed it! Or even if you didn't.
> 
> Thank you to ridorana for being the best beta ever!! <3
> 
> This chapter was named after the song "Amber" by 311


	3. Higher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to the place with golden streets

Larsa had forgotten how much he loved parties.

What was it about them that he loved so much? Perhaps it was the gathering of friends, family, and neighbors all in one place to celebrate a single event. Perhaps it was the smiles on their faces as they reunited with loved ones, sharing stories and jokes alike as they feasted and danced. Perhaps even, it was that warm feeling he had in his heart whenever he attended one.

It was all of that, and more so.

In the heart of Rabanastre’s Palace Dining Hall, Larsa sighed in content, taking it all in. It had been converted into a celebration room this evening; a sea of rectangular wooden tables lined up in rows stretching from one end to the other. The smooth, dark wooden surfaces were adorned in red and gold patterned table runners and placemats. Larsa’s eyes lit up at the vibrant array of Dalmascan cuisine: steaming plates of cockatrice meat, bowls of curry, fried and fresh vegetables, three different kinds of rice, large trays of sliced cactoid pears, and much more.

Seats were filled with Rabanastrans of all sorts - age, race, economic backgrounds - it mattered not to Ashe; it appeared she saw no reason not to invite the entire city. Seeing everyone sharing food, stories and laughter, it was clear that Ashe’s intention was to bring her city together as a family.

Ashe was seated at the head of the table, her smile aglow with joy. As Basch and Larsa were her honored guests, they each sat on her left and right, respectively. Surrounding them were members of Ashe’s court, as well as those who worked in the Royal Palace. Larsa could see Vaan standing across the room, holding a cockatrice leg in his hand as he joyfully spoke to his friend Tomaj.

Suddenly, Larsa saw a bottle of wine to his left. Ashe nodded at the young waiter who held it out to him.

“Larsa,” Ashe called to him over the cheerful tune of reed flutes chiming in the background. “You are of age now; you must try the Bhujerban Madhu. It was sent to me by my Uncle; he says this is the finest wine in all of Ivalice.”

Larsa had no interest in drinking. But Ashe was beaming with hope, and it _was_ her birthday…perhaps there was no harm in trying. It would be rude otherwise to refuse.

Larsa reluctantly held the golden goblet out to the waiter and watched as he poured it half-way. When the Madhu first touched his tongue, it was tart and fruitful; but as it lingered, it became sweet, with a hint of cinnamon, and it went smooth down his throat. He found himself taking another sip, and then another, and heard a joyful chuckle from Ashe.

 “Amazing, isn’t it?” she said.

“ _Indeed._ ” It was Basch who praised the wine, as he held up his own glass to Ashe. “To your Uncle: for making a wine more delicious than we deserve!” They clinked their goblets in cheers, and drank what little of the Madhu remained in them.

Larsa placed his goblet down immediately. He didn’t wish to end up red-cheeked like Basch, despite the temptation of the Madhu’s taste. “The Marquis made this himself?”

“Yes,” Ashe nodded and placed her glass down. “A hobby of his as it were; it is his true passion.” Her smile seemed a little wry yet with no shortage of fondness as she reminisced about her dear Uncle’s penchant for spirits and the tales it had caused over the years.

What seemed like half an hour had passed, and after most of the guests had finished their dinners, Ashe stood, and Basch helped her bring the room to silence.

With Madhu-induced rosy cheeks, she smiled. “Thank you all for joining me to celebrate my birthday this evening,” Her voice was strong and projected towards the back of the room. “I hope you all have enjoyed your dinner. In just a few minutes, we invite you to watch the Dancing Galbanas perform in the plaza. As soon as you are finished with your dinner, if you would like: please join me outside to enjoy their performance.”

Larsa quickly drank the last of his wine and got up to join her. If there were butterflies in his stomach, he wrote it off as the Madhu, and nothing more.

 

* * *

 

While the night failed to cool the desert summer air to the extent he had hoped, it was still much more tolerable than the day.

The town plaza was aglow with the light of flamed torches and the full moon in the night sky. In the center, the dancers stood in offset rows, each with their right knee bent. The freshly-cut galbana lilies placed in their hair did not budge even as their heads hung low, their gaze to the ground. They wore cropped tops that showed their slender tanned bellies, and long, billowing skirts of deep crimson, with jewelry that added gilded accents to their garb.

Larsa followed Ashe and her court towards the steps to the side of the plaza, and caught sight of Penelo. It was always easy to find her in a crowd, even now, and not just because she was standing in the front row. Ever since the moment he first saw her in Bhujerba all those years ago, he was drawn to her. Her striking beauty was one thing – those round, honey-brown eyes and charming smile could lure in anyone’s attention – but there was something else about her. Behind those eyes was the strength of a survivor, and through that smile was the compassion of someone who could never hold an ounce of hatred in her soul.

He couldn’t imagine anyone else to call his best friend.

Penelo must have heard their arrival, because she brought her head up and looked directly into Larsa’s eyes. She smiled nervously, and gave him a small wave, one which he returned with no small amount of enthusiasm.

With Ashe and her court, Larsa took his seat and waited with brimming anticipation while the remainder of the guests made their way to the plaza. If her performance the other day was any evidence to her troupe’s talent, Larsa could not wait to see what they had in store this evening.

“‘Scuse me, sorry, ‘scuse me, oops! ‘Scuse--Thanks!” Larsa heard a familiar voice from the depths of the crowd. He felt, more than heard, someone roughly take their seat next to him.

Vaan sighed in relief. “Jeesh. I thought I’d never get through that crowd!” He relaxed easy into his chair, and smiled at the emperor. “Hey Larsa, that dinner was amazing wasn’t it? Had to bring some of it with me, you know?” Vaan winked as he waved the star fruit in his hand before bringing it to his mouth to take a bite.

Larsa couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of his friend overjoyed by food.

“So,” Vaan said after a moment, smacking gracelessly, “you excited to see Pen?” The edge to his voice was a bit teasing.

The wine gave Larsa’s blush away, but he hoped Vaan wrote it off as firelight and nothing more. Something about Vaan’s tone made him feel twelve again. Instead of returning Vaan’s gaze, he watched instead the musicians from inside the Royal Palace arriving to join the band already in position behind the dancers. “Penelo told me she has something special planned for tonight,” he dodged Vaan’s hint with the stumbling grace of a half-inebriated politician, as he eyed a vast array of drums being wheeled behind the dancer’s line; while some were simply shaped like large circles, others were shaped like goblets, and they all had colorful patterns painted onto them. It reminded him briefly of his visit to Jahara years ago.

Vaan’s grin twisted at one corner and he nudged Larsa playfully, as though he were a friend from childhood and not, in fact, the emperor of Archades. “Pen’s always got somethin’ special planned. Keep an eye on her and you’ll see. But that shouldn’t be a problem, huh?”

Larsa cleared his throat most dignifiedly and ignored when it cracked.

The last few groups arrived and took their seats, and the crowd settled into silence.

A single drum beat initiated the dance.

It was low in pitch, and resonated throughout the plaza, sending a wave through Larsa’s heart, and the silence that followed sent a chill down his spine.

High-pitched, melodic plucking of sitar strings filled the air, bringing the Dancing Galbanas to life. Larsa watched Penelo raise her head and arms simultaneously, slowly, until her gaze and arms were reaching towards the night sky. The bangles on her wrists reflected gold light as she smoothly twirled her graceful hands. The strings’ sensual hums and erratic rhythm mixed with the slow, fluid motions of the dancers’ hands as they flowed down in wave-like movements until they reached chest-level.

With Vaan staring into the performance as well, Larsa felt no shame in focusing in on Penelo, whose hands parted until they were outstretched on each side of her swaying hips. From her shoulders, to the tips of her fingers, Penelo sent a wave of movement through her arms, alternating between right and left, until they resembled wildsnakes. While maintaining the flow of her arms, she held one leg out in front of her, and bent her knees further, sliding her back down an invisible wall, her body a perfect discipline of her art.

The melody’s volume grew as the sitar player plucked the strings with more passion and intensity. The dancers’ bodies undulated as they slowly lifted themselves until they stood tall once more. All at once, they moved in impeccable unison – a testament to the long hours of rehearsal they put into the routine. Each of them smiled at the crowd, holding their heads high with poise and grace.

The pace of the rhythm quickened, and they followed suit. The Dancing Galbanas sashayed their hips, alternating between right and left, as though each hip were drawing a small circle in the air. It was oddly hypnotic and unabashedly exotic; it was nothing like Archades, and Larsa could not look away. Their bodies undulated as they smoothly travelled to their left, their elevation shifting from high to low as they switched from standing on the balls of their feet to flat on the ground. They stopped and spun towards their right, swift and smooth, returning to the center of the stage.

The recognizable _doums_ and _teks_ of the goblet drums joined in, intertwining with the strings to form a harmony of sounds. More strings emerged, challenging the powerful drums. The soft, high-pitched whistle of the reed flutes chimed in, adding a more playful nature to the tune.

It was amazing to see such a slow, mysterious dance turn into a highly-intense, energized show; it bloomed like a Galbana under the sun. With each beat of the drums, the dancers would do a quick snap with different parts of their bodies: the hips, the ribcage, the shoulders and head. Not a single part of them was left unused.

The dancers stood on the balls of their feet, snapping their hips, _one-two,_ _one-two,_ causing the gold coins of their hip sashes to jingle. They travelled to the side so smoothly it looked as though they were gliding through the air. Still snapping their hips to the rhythm, they stopped travelling to do a smooth spin, reaching one arm out to the audience, who clapped and cheered.

Each and every one of the Dancing Galbanas was hypnotizing, but Larsa found he was unable to take his eyes off Penelo. Soon he found that his gaze on her was returned, as he spotted her eyes looking his way between spins. He thought at first - perhaps he was imagining it, his eyes confused by the shadows and the flickering firelight and the Madhu; however, when the spins stopped, and her eyes still lingered, he could not find a further excuse. It was real. She would smile at the crowd, then check on her troupe, then focus on herself and the routine. But her eyes, half-lidded and decorated with shimmering gold makeup, always returned to him, and every time they did, Larsa could not blame the warm temperature on desert air alone.

The pace of the drums increased gradually, as did the snapping of the dancers’ hips until they were doing a full shimmy. The coins on their hip sashes jingled with more intensity, becoming instruments themselves. The dancers began to sway their hips side-to-side, and then into circles, all while maintaining the rhythm of their shimmy – an impressive feat, Larsa admitted.

Everything about this was impressive to him – not only the skill and grace of the dancers, but the energy they elicited from the crowd as well, and the fact that it was all planned and followed through. They each had a common vision and worked together to make it into a reality.

It was more than impressive to him; it was _inspiring_.

Towards the end of the shimmy, the dancers each pulled a shimmering gold veil out from under their hip sashes and threw them over their heads from behind. The cloth must have been made from the finest silk, as they floated in the air long after they were tossed. The dancers swiftly returned their veils to their backs, holding them with one hand on each end. Larsa watched Penelo spin, the silk following her, and for a moment it looked as though a wave of the Sandsea shimmered right before his eyes.

And then, all instruments faded to silence, except for the drums. The dancers dedicated this section of the routine to isolations. To the beat of the drums, the dancers isolated movements in their hips, popping them to their left, their front, right and back. Then they focused on isolating their rib cages, shoulders, and head. Larsa could have sworn he even saw their bellies vibrate, powered by their diaphragms.

That last move must have been a crowd favorite, because the audience erupted in hoots and hollers. Some people even whistled, including Vaan, and Larsa smiled in amusement as the sound rang in his ears.

The other musicians slowly brought their instruments back into the song, one-by-one. The pace of the song and dance quickened, and the music grew louder than ever, shaking the air of the plaza. After a sequence of hip snaps, snake arms, and spins, the dancers, on the balls of their feet, glided closer towards each other and the center of the stage, their bodies undulating with each step. They lined up into three rows, and as they did a sequence of swift, circular hip movements, they slowly lifted their hands to the sky. With one last _tek_ from the drums, the dancers each maneuvered themselves into their final pose. From his seat in the center of the audience, Larsa could see that the individual poses, when viewed as a collective whole, formed the pointed petals of a galbana lily.

And amidst it all, when Penelo looked up again, one last time, it was his gaze she caught and did not release.

Stunned, Larsa was unaware of his surroundings until a few seconds after the audience erupted into a thunderous applause. When he realized he was the only person still sitting, he bolted out of his seat and joined them.

“So, how was that?” Vaan asked, nudging Larsa over the din of the applause. “Can’t catch a show like this in Archades, huh.”

But if Larsa had words to say, he could not find them. All he could do was clap.

 

* * *

 

 _Finally_ , Penelo could relax.

The dance had ended, and the audience seemed to love it; especially Ashe, who thanked her with an enthusiastic hug.

Penelo congratulated each of her troupe members, until she caught sight of her mentor once again. Malikah beamed at her as they embraced.

“We did it!” Penelo exclaimed, returning a high five Malikah offered. “That was a great show!”

Malikah’s smile was warm and her eyes were sincere; she placed her hands on Penelo’s shoulders. “Penelo, we couldn’t have done this without you. The Dancing Galbanas wouldn’t exist today if it weren’t for your passion and hard work. Thank you for helping me bring dance back to Rabanastre.”

Love swelled in Penelo’s heart. “Thank you, Malikah,” she said, and she again embraced her mentor and dear friend.

While the dancers were relieved for the night, the musicians continued to provide the party guests a positive, warm ambiance with cheerful, upbeat tunes. The crowd dispersed already, and everyone was enjoying the party throughout the plaza. Drinks were being served from the bar that was set up in the corner by a fountain and the echo of their performance lived on in the joy of the guests. In the center of the plaza, Penelo could see some of her troupe members had decided to dance freestyle, joyfully beckoning others to join them.

She was tempted to join them, but she was _parched_.

Penelo snaked her way through the crowd, receiving a few congratulations along the way that she nearly had to pry herself away from to get a drink. The bartender handed to her a glass of water, and Penelo gratefully downed it in one go. She moved to turn back to the dance floor, but then something caught her eye -

She stopped in her tracks to see Larsa standing by himself, off to the side. Amidst all the life, he looked starkly still as he sipped his own glass and watched the dancing in the distance.

Penelo pursed her lips. It was a shame to see him without company.

She approached him, and even as she got closer, it appeared he was distracted - she followed his gaze to watch Vaan’s antics on the dance floor, and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“Having fun?” Penelo asked when she reached him; she inferred from his wide eyes and lifted brows that she had startled him.

He hesitated for a moment; had he not heard her question?

“Y-yes,” he smiled sheepishly. “Forgive me. I find myself still stunned by your performance.”

He was so sweet; he always had been. Penelo couldn’t help but smile and waved off the praise.

“Thank you, Larsa, but I can’t take all the credit. None of this would be possible without my troupe.”

Larsa drank the remainder of his water, the apple of his throat bobbing as he did. He looked into her eyes once more. “You must be quite proud of them.”

She _absolutely_ was.

“Yeah,” she nodded, an understatement: her heart overflowed with pride just thinking of her students, but she was too winded to find the words. “I am.”

A busboy plucked Larsa’s empty glass from his hands without so much as a word, and with nothing left to fidget with, Larsa clasped his hands at his sides. Penelo took note of that quickly, and thought - no, it simply wouldn’t do to have the emperor of Archades spend his time in Rabanastre as a wallflower. Penelo had an idea.

“Larsa, would you like to dance with me?” She hoped flashing a grin would be enough to convince him.  Light _teks_ from the goblet drums joined in, accompanied by occasional _doums_. Lastly, a high-pitched, passionate string melody joined in. Those already on the dance floor started pairing up, circling slowly in synchronicity.

His eyes were wide for a second, and then they relaxed. “Of course,” he said, nodding with grace.

Larsa held his right elbow out, signaling her to take his arm. Penelo smiled at the familiar gesture, and she was overwhelmed with nostalgia; it brought her back to a night years ago, to the first time they danced together under the night sky in Jahara, where he taught her the basic steps of the Archadian Waltz amidst the Garif before their trip to Bur Omisace. It was one of her memories with him she cherished most.

Penelo gladly took his arm and led him to a clearing in the plaza center.

“It’s been three years since you last waltzed with me here, so don’t make fun of me if I mess it up,” Penelo warned, prompting Larsa to laugh.

“I wouldn’t dare; you have my word.”

Though Vaan’s word never carried too much weight - he was a pirate now, after all, and before that just a thief - Penelo knew Larsa meant nothing but the truth. She closed the gap between them, and placed her left hand on his shoulder. From there, it was seamless, automatic, programmed in Larsa’s muscle-memory since childhood, no doubt; he gently took hold of her waist with his right hand, and their free hands joined.

Surprisingly, the Archadian steps flowed smoothly to the Dalmascan melody as they glided in circles on the dancefloor. The music began to pick up in pace, as did their steps, and the pair danced so seamlessly, Penelo felt like there was no floor beneath them, as though they floated on the skies of Bhujerba. Odd, it was, for a dance so rooted in rigidity to feel so...fluid, so natural. It startled her only for a moment, a pleasant sort of surprise that kept her laughing and Larsa smiling down at her. He released Penelo’s waist and swiftly spun her once, and the torchlights blurred around her until they became long ribbons of gold.

The world settled around her, and Larsa looked...Larsa looked _ecstatic,_ the charm clearly written on his face aglow with joy. “You remember well!” he complimented, and Penelo didn’t know why, but it made her blush.

Penelo let out a chuckle. “It’s been so long, I was afraid I had forgotten.”

But then that smile that lit up Larsa’s face faded, suddenly. “I’m sorry it has been so long,” he said for what must have been the umpteenth time since she saw him the other day. “I really did miss you.”

_I really did miss you._

Though she did not wish for Larsa’s spirit to dampen, it was a tremendous relief to hear those words. Penelo began to think that he was forgetting her over the years of maneuvering through the intricate maze of Archadian government. She wouldn’t blame him if he had.

But he hadn’t. Through it all, Larsa remembered her, and that spoke louder than any apology he felt the need to make.

“I’ve missed you too. But Larsa, don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re here _now_ , and we’re all really happy you are.” As Penelo uttered those last words, the drums faded almost into silence, and the strings took the lead. The melody slowed, and each note was elongated, reverberating with passion. Their steps slowed to match the music.

She looked into his eyes, blue like the skies of Archadia. “Larsa,” she began a bit more seriously - if this was to be a night of admissions, than she may as well make hers; who knows when she will see him again after this? “Hearing your plans for Archadia’s future, I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I still consider you my best friend, you know that right?”

Even if he didn’t feel the same way, even if she was just an old friend he used to see once a year, doomed to fade from his memory, she wanted him to know how much he meant to her. He was the first reason for her to open her heart to the Archadian Empire, and the first glimmer of hope she had for a future without war. He was always so kind and understanding, listening to her troubles with no judgement in his heart.

How could she ever put that into words that would sound as graceful as he made his own out to be?

Larsa’s lips curved into a smile again, and he spun her once more. “And I consider you mine! I never stopped.”

“Really?” She was so relieved she could hardly believe it. “I was worried you were going to forget me,” she admitted so softly it was almost a mumble in her twirl; as soon as it left her lips, she almost wished she hadn’t said it. There was no reason to weigh Larsa with guilt that was not his to bear.

His eyebrows furrowed in worry. “ _Forget you?”_ he echoed, incredulous at the notion _._ “I could never…” he shook his head, his eyes never leaving her. The sincerity of it washed away any doubt Penelo had festering within her these past years, and she felt lighter in his arms.

All she could do was smile. “I’m glad we’re still on the same page, then.”

Larsa nodded before adding, “Not only could I never forget you, Penelo,” he began - a bit shyly, if anything, “But I believe there is an opportunity that has presented itself in which _many_ people could remember you for.”

_What is he talking about?_

“What is it?” she asked, “What opportunity?”

At her question, a shadow cast over his eyes. “Penelo,” he began quietly, “there is something I must tell you.”

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes looked… she didn’t know how they looked. Scared, perhaps, or cautious, or neither at all - something unreadable that the dancer could not place. “I should hope nothing. I pray that what I bring to you is good news.”

 _What?_ Penelo tilted her head, impatience and curiosity gnawing at her usual grace. “Just tell me, Larsa.”

She saw his chest rise and fall in what must have been a deep inhale to calm his nerves. _Just out with it already_.

“Queen Ashe wishes to appoint you to the position of Ambassador, for a temporary assignment in Archadia. And should this go well, should you agree, she wishes for you to serve as a permanent member on the Council of Ivalice, as a representative of Dalmasca.”

She couldn’t _believe_ what he just said.

Ambassador of Dalmasca? What? _Her?_ What on Ivalice was going on?

“What?” It was all she could muster out of her thoughts, and she began to lose the initial grace in her steps. She must have resembled Vaan, fish-mouthed and wide-eyed, gaping at the Archadian as she tried not to trip over her own feet. But Larsa only continued.

“She wishes for you to begin immediately, should you decide to take the job.”

Penelo opened her mouth, because she _should_ have been saying something, but no words came to her. Yes, she was certainly mirroring Vaan in this lack of grace.

Larsa looked at her with understanding. “I apologize for bringing this news to you so suddenly,” he began, but Penelo stopped him. She had to stop _everything:_ his words, the dance, and the world that spun far too quickly around her. Her steps came to a halt, and she withdrew her hands from the emperor.

Suddenly, Penelo’s words returned to her in a burst of confusion.

“But - why _me?_ I’m not _qualified_ for this!” She heard her own voice rise, and she saw a few heads turn her way.

“Of course you are,” Larsa returned - purposely quieter.

“No I’m not,” she insisted, shaking her head furiously at the notion of such a responsibility, “I’m just a dancer, and I barely just joined Lady Ashe’s court. I’m - I’m just a glorified secretary, really.”

But Larsa was having none of it. He took her hand and gently pulled her away from the crowded dancefloor.

He looked at her with sincerity in his eyes as he held her hands. “Lady Ashe sees potential in you as I do. Why else would she assign you to her court?”

“I - I don’t know…” she stammered softly, barely audible in the sounds of celebration.

“Penelo,” Larsa started, his eyes scanning the crowd around them. “What you have done here with your troupe examples great leadership abilities.” He returned his gaze to her. “And your friendship with me…” he paused to smile, “was only made possible because you have a gift for diplomacy – more so than your own Queen.” A second passed before he noticed the implications of his last words, and fear flashed in his eyes. “But do not tell her I said that; she might declare war over it.”

Penelo let out a nervous laugh, a much needed release of the air she held tightly in her lungs. She mulled it over for a moment as she watched the celebration around her. “Do you really think I can do this?”

Larsa nodded. “I do.” And she could hear in his voice that he meant it.

Yet still, she couldn’t seem to believe it. “Larsa, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it really isn’t the same. It’s not enough.”

“ _Yes it is,”_ Larsa insisted. “The details may differ, but at the core it is the same. You have a gift with people, Penelo. You understand them. You know what they need to learn, and you know what they need to _thrive._ And most importantly: you care for them deeply, and that is a necessity that is hardly met in politics. You have the potential to impact the lives of _all_ Dalmascans for the better if you are to take this opportunity.”

Once more Penelo was at a loss for words, her thoughts drifting to the world around her. She watched as Malikah danced joyfully with Vaan and Tomaj, while her students managed to get every last wallflower to join them on the dancefloor. She wanted nothing more than to see their continued happiness and prosperity; if she could do something to influence that, it would mean the world to her. But there was no way she was ready to take on anything this important...

He _saw_ the doubt in her face, Penelo knew, because he _still_ wasn’t quitting. “If it is the complexity of the world of government and politics that cautions you, please, fear it not. I will teach you everything I know if I must, and once I have done that, we can learn together, for there is still much for me to learn as well.”

She looked up into his eyes. They looked scared, still, which wasn’t helping his cause for reassuring her. “But how? You’re going back to Archadia...”

His mouth was agape when his eyes darted to the side. _What now,_ she almost groaned. This was all too much right now! “There is a small detail I have failed to mention,” he said nervously. “Ashe has requested that you live in the Imperial Palace for a month’s time, until the Council meetings have concluded. It would be convenient, as this year’s council will be held in Archades.”

“Live... in Archades?” Penelo gasped. Leave behind Rabanastre? Her life, her friends, her art… for Archades?

Larsa exhaled. “Yes. Penelo, I do not expect you to come to a decision now. Ashe has requested that you speak with her on it after the party, and you can think on it overnight. Should you decide to take the job, tomorrow I will be waiting in the Aerodrome until midday. Meet me there, and we shall go together.”

Penelo opened her mouth to say _something_ – to protest, to further insist that he must be looking for a different Penelo, and she would offer to help him find her. So why wasn’t she telling him ‘no’? Why didn’t she just end it all here, instead of leaving it open like her stunned mouth? Was she too afraid to let her friend down? But she was _always_ honest with him, so why stop now?

Did she...did she _want_ this? Did a small part of her actually believe she could do this?

 _Boom!_ A thunderous noise rumbled through the air, and everyone around them stopped dancing.

Penelo immediately followed the source of the sound in the sky, and she saw glittering explosions of brilliant red and gold lights bloom into the shape of desert flowers. She had forgotten there were fireworks planned for the celebration.

She turned to look at Larsa, who gazed in awe at the display of magic-induced lights before him, his smile illuminated by their red glow. He had that look of wonder in his eyes, like anything was possible.

Penelo hoped that look would never go away.

 

* * *

 

The echoes of traveler’s voices, footsteps and luggage-dragging filled the air, but Larsa paid them no mind, not when his heart was pounding and his thoughts were racing like a skystone port on overdrive.

He stood, leaning against the railing as he looked out the window across the terminal, focusing on everything and nothing in particular; the world around him nothing more than background noise and imagery. The sun was shining high in the sky; midday was swiftly approaching…

Time, Larsa realized, was running thin.

Basch’s deep voice, muffled from his Judge’s helmet, pulled Larsa’s gaze away from the brilliantly clear desert skies. “My Lord,” he warned, and Larsa turned his head to face him, “I advise we depart shortly if you wish to arrive before nightfall.”

“She will be here,” he said, and even though he wasn’t, he added, “I am sure of it.” He kept his voice calm, despite his increased heart rate.

He directed his gaze downward so that all he could see was the floor, his tapping foot, crossed arms, and his chest. He became increasingly aware of how shallow his breathing had become. Perhaps he could try to slow it down…

But there was no _time_ for that. Not when his proposal was an hourglass nearly emptied of every granule, not when Archades awaited him again, not when the chop system itself was at stake…

And not when Penelo could be the one to make his vision a reality.

The realization hit him swiftly:

_She will not show._

Of course not; why would she? _No one_ as virtuous as her would taint themselves in the twisted world of Archadian politics _willingly_. Penelo was no fool; even Balthier - Doctor Cid’s son, born and bred into its snare - high-tailed it out of there as soon as he could take the helm of his own ship. Larsa was the only fool here to think for a second that she would show; Penelo would never do this. The war may be over, but he was sure her memories of it remained. He would not blame her if she wanted nothing to do with this…

_Look out the window._

Larsa swiftly lifted his head back up, his bangs falling on his face in the motion. The sun was higher in the sky now – how much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? Neither at all? He let the doubt fester into mortification; not only had he disrespected Penelo in assuming she would want to come, he disrespected her in insisting it would be the right thing to do.

What did he know of her?

Before last night he hadn’t seen Penelo in years. And yet he waltzed – quite literally – back into her life and expected her to give up everything for his agenda?

_She is not coming._

She really wasn’t, was she? Larsa had hoped she would at least be here to bid them farewell, but no; she did not owe him that. But she wasn’t, and now he was sorry he ever put such a heavy decision on her shoulders. Was he a terrible friend? Did she no longer wish to see or speak to him? Will she ever forgive him?

_She will never forgive you, or your country. Now you must move on._

He felt a firm, yet gentle touch on his right shoulder that shook him from his dwelling.

“My Lord – it is time.” He could _feel_ the pity in Basch’s voice, and he felt disgusted with himself for hoping too much.

Larsa finally took a deep breath. Reluctantly, he lifted his weight off from the railing. “Alright – let us go.”

They turned right to begin heading towards their gate.

Larsa was overhearing a man’s complaint about a delayed flight to Bhujerba when he heard a shrill, panicked voice resonate throughout the Aerodrome.

“Waaaaaaaaaaait!”

Larsa and Basch immediately stopped and turned their heads towards the voice that was quickly approaching them.

Larsa saw blonde, windswept bangs that met with wide eyes the color of sand, and the world stood still. Long braids bounced against bare shoulders, and his heart overflowed with emotion. He heard her voice once more and he felt his lips widen into a full grin.

_Penelo._

She was frantically running towards them, as quickly as she could while carrying two large luggage bags. She was flustered from running and worrying, and small strands of her hair had clung to the sweat on her forehead. Despite the disheveled state of her appearance, she was the most beautiful sight Larsa had ever laid his eyes upon.

It was as though all the world’s burdens had been lifted off his shoulders. The sight of her amidst so much doubt was enough to make him want to break down and cry with joy, but he didn’t wish for her to see him in such a shameless state. He took a deep breath.

Penelo was directly in front of him now, and he watched her place her baggage down with a heavy _thump_. Her knees were bent and she leaned forward, resting her hands on her thighs as she breathed heavily. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” she exclaimed, and inhaled again, “I had to say goodbye to my troupe, and those girls love to talk!”

What was there to forgive? He should be asking for _her_ pardon, if anything.

“’Tis alright. But Penelo, are you absolutely _sure_ you wish to do this?” He couldn’t let her go - despite how much he wanted it more than anything - without a warning.

She stood up and looked him in the eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” she declared with confidence, but it was short-lived. All at once, it fell in a nervous laugh, self-deprecating and unabashedly honest. “But Larsa, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t absolutely terrified.”

Larsa gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was warm from the last touches of Dalmascan sun. “Then I am grateful that you do not lie, because I am terrified as well. But seeing you here – simply knowing that I will not go through this task alone – makes a difference. Thank you, Penelo. Thank you for being here.”

“I thank you as well,” Basch added, “Archadia awaits Dalmasca’s newest Ambassador with open arms.”

“Thank you…” Penelo’s voice was soft with humility.

“Well,” Larsa said, “It is time we ought to board our airship.” He swiftly grabbed Penelo’s baggage off the floor.

“Oh Larsa, you don’t have to do that; I can carry my own bags,” Penelo protested.

“I know you can,” he said, and he felt himself smirk just before he turned around and began to walk towards the gate.

“Larsa, really, give them back. I’m fine with carrying them,” she called out as she followed him.

But he had no plans of returning the luggage to her – not yet. He began to walk faster.

“ _Larsa_!”

He widened his strides, and he let out a chuckle, looking back to Penelo just so she could see how much fun he was having.

Her worried expression transformed into a slightly irritated one, and yet she remained as beautiful as ever.

Larsa looked ahead once more, and his stride turned into a full _dash_.

“ _LARSA_!”

He could hear from her echoed footsteps on the tile floors that she began to run after him, but she was not catching up.

“Why do you have to be such a fast runner!?”

This was too much fun; he could no longer hold his polite pretense.

A fit of boisterous laughter had burst from his lungs, and it echoed throughout the terminal.

 

* * *

 

 

Penelo sat still on a leather passenger seat aboard _The Sylph._

Larsa’s private airship was silver and white, its shape was pointed and elegant; Penelo would never tell Balthier or Vaan, but it was the most beautiful airship she had the privilege to lay her eyes on. It flew smoothly through the air with grace, and its flight was so steady that if it weren’t for the clouds outside the window, Penelo wouldn’t have known she was on an airship at all.

But even with the stillness of the ride, Penelo felt her stomach turn this way and that.

She accepted her nervousness fully, and tried to breathe her way through it. Perhaps if she distracted herself, she would feel better. She turned to her right and scooted closer to the window. In between thin, summer clouds, she looked upon vast fields of yellow-green grass, with ancient ruins scattered about. As she gazed into the faraway grassland of the Tchita Uplands, her mind wandered to the night before...

 

* * *

 

She had met with Ashe in one of the drawing rooms of the Royal Palace.

It was dark, with only the dim, amber glow of magicite lights to illuminate the area. Ashe had been lounging on a red and gold loveseat nursing a goblet of wine when Penelo asked her about what had transpired earlier that evening.

“So I see Larsa has already told you; that was thoughtful of him. I wanted to tell you myself, but he insisted I enjoy my own party.” Ashe smiled as she poured a new glass of Bhujerban Madhu. She stood and offered it to Penelo.

Penelo looked down and saw her doubtful expression reflected in the red wine. “But, why me? I don’t understand; there are plenty of people in your court who are more qualified.”

Ashe turned around and sauntered back to the tea table and grabbed her own glass, taking her last sip of Madhu. “The people of my council are of the same families as those in my father’s court. While they may have experience in governing, they have only seen Rabanastre from above ground.” She placed the glass down and turned to face Penelo with an opportunistic smile. “You offer a new perspective – one that can far better represent our people than anyone else in my court.”

Were Larsa and Ashe _both_ out of their minds? _How much wine did they drink during that dinner?_

“I want you to think on it. But Penelo…” Ashe approached her, and placed her warm hands on her shoulders. “I trust you, and I believe in your abilities. Please consider this.”

“Of course I will, Your Grace.”

Ashe shook her head and let go of Penelo. “Oh, none of that now!” she protested, and she smiled at her with Madhu-flushed cheeks. “After all we’ve been through; you are a sister to me. Call me Ashe, always, Penelo.”

“Right – Ashe.” She laughed at the strangeness of it, still new to her despite the years of peace.  “I’ll have to get used to this.”

Ashe’s smile had gone now, and she looked Penelo in the eyes. “Penelo, should you decide to go, I require from you but a single task during your stay.”

Did she mean _besides_ helping Larsa pass his bill? However she was supposed to do that…

“Of course,” Penelo agreed, “What is it?”

“I need you to report to me your experience living in Archades. Send me one letter each week of how you feel and how you are personally treated there. If Larsa plans to open the gates of Archades to all, I need to know if my people are welcome there. Should you see any sign of ill intent, you are to report it to me immediately.”

Penelo wasn’t so sure about this, yet she found herself nodding obediently.

“Yes, your – Yes, Ashe,” she stammered.

 

* * *

 

Penelo blinked, returning to the present.

She looked to her left to see Larsa sitting on the passenger seat across the aisle from her. He sat hunched over, with his chin in his hands, most likely in deep thought. His eyes were focused at the ground, but his mind was elsewhere. Penelo could have sworn she didn’t see him take a single breath.

“Hey, don’t overwork yourself before we even get there.”

She knew she startled him when his face twisted into surprise, swiftly blinking several times. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them to gaze into nothing once more.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“I wonder how I will face the Senate Leaders after leaving them to fend for themselves the last three days,” he looked to her with worried eyes too old for a young man of his years. “I fear they either hate me for it, or they took this as an opportunity to take over.” He laughed miserably at the idea.

“I don’t think they would do either,” Penelo reassured. “I’m sure they understand, and I don’t think they would do anything so drastic.”

“I should _hope_ not.”

“You say they need to have more faith in you, and that’s _true_ ; but remember that you need to have faith in them, too.”

She lost him once more to the sea of thoughts that was his mind.

A powerful voice joined the conversation. “You should listen to Ambassador Penelo; she has a wise head on her shoulders.” Basch entered the cabin with helmet removed, and stood in the aisle between Penelo and Larsa. “We will be landing shortly. I urge that you both keep your seatbelts fastened.”

After Basch took his seat behind Larsa and fastened his seatbelt as instructed, _The Sylph_ could finally prepare to land.

Penelo could feel the airship lower as it began its descent, and when it tilted slightly, she looked out the window to her right. She could see it now, cresting upon the horizon: the Imperial City of Archades. It was grand and impressive in scale, and the building’s shades of bronze and amber paired well with the lush green of summer-ripened foliage. She immediately noticed that the city had expanded since her last visit five years ago. A new series of buildings that formed the shape of a crescent moon hugged the south end of the city.

This must have been the newest addition: a completely reconstructed Old Archades.

She remembered everything she saw when she last walked through the broken-down streets of the old capital: the walls that were eroding, the weeds that grew between the stones under her feet, and the weary-eyed faces of the people whose dreams were crushed by the city. She remembered the children, with no home to call their own, and how they reminded her of Kytes, Vaan and Reks, and even herself, growing up on the streets of Rabanastre. As she looked upon the renovated buildings, with their fresh coats of paint, she wondered if the dreams of the people she met there had received a similar treatment.

Under Larsa’s rule, she had utmost faith that they had.

Her biggest question now, as they anchored in the grand private dock of the Archadian palace...was what did she have to do with any of this? What were _her_ dreams?

Penelo supposed she’d come to learn it, all in due time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought!
> 
> Big shout out to my beta, Ridorana, for going above and beyond with this chapter!
> 
> This chapter was named after the song "Higher" by Creed.
> 
> The song I had in mind when writing the dance scene between Larsa and Penelo is called "Rain" by Faran.


	4. Into the Ocean, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> envy for the solid ground

It wasn’t until Penelo saw the Imperial Palace that reality began to sink in.

Ashe had appointed her Ambassador of Dalmasca. _Ambassador._ In her short life, Penelo had seen many unbelievable things: the devastation of war, the power of magic, technology, and espers, as well as the formation of peace between two warring empires. But this… this was never something Penelo would have expected.

What was Ashe _thinking?_ Penelo couldn’t possibly live up to whatever expectations Ashe had for her.

 _The Sylph_ landed on a private dock just below the palace summit. Penelo followed Larsa down the airship’s ramp, slightly exasperated that he _still_ insisted on carrying her luggage.

As they approached the entryway, Penelo craned her neck to gaze upon the towering dual spires of the palace, and anxiety rattled her nerves. _What am I doing here? This isn’t my world; I don’t belong here._

The front doors opened with a smooth hiss, revealing a long corridor with high ceilings like those in _the Leviathan_ , and as dimly lit as _the Bahamut._ Those weren’t her _fondest_ memories, and they certainly didn’t help soothe the agitated butterflies in her stomach.

Larsa turned to regard the Judge Magister beside him. “Gabranth,” he said, the sound of Basch's alias strange on his tongue after using the man's true name so casually minutes before. “You are relieved for the day. Shall we see you at dinner?”

The horned helmet filtered Basch’s steady voice, but it didn’t hide the gratitude in his tone. “Yes. Thank you, my lord.” He nodded, and as he headed down in one direction, Penelo followed Larsa in the other.

 _Is this all a mistake_ , Penelo wondered as she and Larsa stepped into an elevator, her doubtful expression staring back at her when the metal doors closed. _I shouldn’t be here._ The elevator began its descent, and Penelo’s stomach sank along with it.

In many ways, Penelo felt unsteady, and she needed an anchor. She looked to Larsa, her only friend in this city besides Basch, and she could not express how grateful she was that he was here with her. He stood tall beside her, confident, his gaze ever forward. Whether it was the next step he had to take or the next step towards a brighter future for Ivalice, Larsa was always focused on what was ahead. Penelo supposed that was a trait leaders _should_ have: to predict and prepare when most would not.

While it was a relief to know Archadia had such a responsible leader, to live every moment worrying about the future must have been exhausting. It would be nice if once in a while, Larsa could take a break from it all so he could appreciate the present. Perhaps even, he could learn to leave his guilt behind, in the past where it belonged. He certainly deserved that peace.

Once they reached their destined floor, Larsa led her out into another hallway, and the guards that stood at each side of the elevator bowed, greeting their emperor with a brief “my lord.” After several strides to the left, the echo of Larsa’s boots stopped, and he turned to Penelo. “This is the guest floor of the palace. Since we currently have no others staying with us at this time, you have the entire floor to yourself.”

Penelo gazed down the seemingly endless span of the hallway, and her eyes widened. “ _All_ of it? How many rooms are there?”

“There are a total of twelve suites; the choice is yours.”

Penelo darted her eyes from one door to the other, until the end of the hallway, and she felt overwhelmed. “I-I’m fine with _anything_ , really.”

Larsa smiled thoughtfully. “There is one in particular I think you would like. Follow me.”

He walked past her, still carrying her luggage, and she followed him to a room that was at the very end of the hallway. Larsa finally placed her luggage down, and after Penelo snatched them back, she paused, noticing that the doors to her room were not automatic. The click of metal doorknobs turning was a welcome contrast to the hiss of the elevator doors.

Larsa flipped the light switch, revealing a room that Penelo felt was far too extravagant for her to stay in.

Tentatively, Penelo stepped into the room. As she placed her luggage down, she noted the spotless pale gold carpet beneath her, and she wondered if she should remove her sandals. However, removing shoes indoors didn’t seem to be a custom Archadians shared with Dalmascans, as Larsa strode across the room, boots on, without a thought. She supposed it made sense – after all, the streets here were always clean, and there was no need to worry about tracking sand in here.

A bed large enough to fit at least _three_ of her stood to her left, its elaborately carved headrest of burnt sienna wood glowed softly in the dim artificial light. The crimson coverlet matched well with the red hue of the wooden end tables and vanity dresser. Penelo looked up to see the soft glow of a vine pattern on gold wallpaper, and to her right, there was even a door to a private bathroom.

Never in her life had she had so much space all to herself.

“When automatic doors were introduced to the palace, every room on the guest floor was renovated. However, this room was chosen to maintain its classic design, and so the traditional doors remained,” Larsa explained. “And the colors always reminded me of you, because of your troupe.” He turned his head slightly to look at her from the corner of his eyes, and Penelo thought she could see a hint of worry in them. “I thought you might like it.”

Did he worry she wouldn’t? This was nicer than any room she could ever hope to afford. Moments like this really reminded her that she and Larsa came from two entirely different worlds.

“It’s…” Penelo abandoned her luggage to approach the bed, reaching out to feel the covers. Her fingers brushed against smooth silk, tracing a pattern of flowers embroidered in gold thread, and she wondered how many meals she could afford if she sold the entire cover set. She turned to Larsa. “It’s beautiful,” she said. She didn’t want to tell him that it was _too_ nice for her to stay in, not when excitement spread his lips into such a stunning grin.

“You have yet to see the room’s best feature.” Larsa turned around and pulled on a rope that drew back pale gold curtains, allowing bright sunlight to pour in through the windows of yet another set of double doors. Penelo watched in surprise as Larsa opened the doors to reveal a balcony, and beyond that, a beautiful view.

The late afternoon sun still shone brightly even as it began its descent, casting long shadows as it illuminated the capital city. Penelo’s room was so high up, she could see _everything_. If she walked to the far left side of the balcony, she could see the new district to the south, and beyond that were the rocky hills where the Sochen Cave Palace dwelled, and behind that, the light green grass of the Tchita Uplands. If she looked to the right, she could see the gray and purple mountains of the north.

Far below her were the districts of Tsenoble, Molberry, and Nilbasse, their skyscrapers much less towering from this elevation, yet still beautiful bathed in the warm summer light. An array of trees and fountains brought an element of nature to the city, particularly in Tsenoble. The swift aircabs whirring in the distance, as well as the people walking through the streets filled the city with life and movement.

Penelo sighed in relief, and her nervous heart settled. Archades was far less intimidating from up here.

“Penelo,” She heard Larsa’s tenor voice address her calmly. She turned, and was met with eyes that matched the sky behind him. “I wish for you to feel welcome here,” he said. “My room is but one floor above yours. Should you need anything, please, do not hesitate to knock on my door.”

He was so sweet, really. It was a relief to know she had a friend like him – a life vest in a sea of strangers.

“Thank you, Larsa.”

She watched him look out into the sky, and his lips curved into an optimistic smile. “It appears we have but a few hours until the sun sets. I purposely scheduled for us to arrive with time to spare before nightfall. Penelo, once you are settled, meet me in the guest hallway. I would be a terrible host should I fail to take Dalmasca’s newest ambassador on a proper tour of the city.”

After her approving nod, Larsa took his leave, and Penelo was left alone with nothing but the whispering summer breeze and her own thoughts.

 _Ambassador_ – that sounded strange in her head, and even more so out loud. She shouldn’t have said yes to take on the job, but she did, and there was no going back now.

 

* * *

 

 

Penelo remembered Tsenoble as the district designated for the rich and influential, known here as the _gentry_ : those with enough chops to prove their superiority over the citizens who lived in the districts below. The entire community was located at the highest levels of the skyscrapers, never to touch the dirt of the ground.

Five years ago, Penelo followed Lady Ashe to Archades on a mission to destroy the Empire’s nethicite in Draklor Laboratory. She remembered the gentry of Tsenoble, and how they would look upon Ashe and their party with disgust, as though they were nothing more than tea stains on their white silk shirts.

But today, walking side-by-side with Larsa, with Archadia’s _emperor_ , things were different.

People still stared – when you stuck out in this sort of town that was to be expected. However, this time, the gentry did not look upon her with disgust. Children gazed in awe. Young men leered, while young women looked worried and envious. Elders examined her with curious eyes. Penelo held firmly onto Larsa’s arm, for she felt if she were to let go, she would be nothing but helpless prey, doomed to be eaten alive.

The gentry were fickle in that way, to see her negatively before, yet positively now, simply for whom she was accompanying. She wondered how Larsa had grown to be so kind-hearted in such an environment. Since the day he saved her from Judge Ghis in Bhujerba, he never once treated her like she was less than him, even though he was in every position to.

She would have to add this special attention to her ever-growing list of Archadian things she needed to adjust to. Perhaps one day she could get halfway up to Larsa’s level of comfort in the public eye; it was amazing to see how well he handled such a heavy burden.

It was also worth noting the confidence he had to not assign a Judge to guard them. When his father Lord Gramis was emperor, Larsa was never to be left unattended, although he ended up sneaking away from his escort anyway. Now that he held the title his father once did, he showed no hesitation in using his power to change protocol as he saw fit. Still, brave and optimistic as he was, Penelo would feel much more at ease if he didn’t venture out of the palace unguarded.

Larsa was just pointing out a shop called _Rhys Antiques_ he used to always visit as a kid, when Penelo heard a voice from behind.

“Emperor Larsa! Emperor Larsa!” The male voice called. Larsa and Penelo turned to see a man with a long face and curious eyes behind a pair of round glasses. He wore a grey doublet with a white shirt of fine silk, his long umber hair tied securely at the back of his head. “Your Grace,” the man greeted Larsa with a single handshake. “My name is Rickard Jora, and I am with _The Tsenoble Report_ – how do you do?”

Larsa smiled politely. “I am well, Mr. Jora, and yourself?”

“Oh I am _very_ well, especially knowing that your Excellency has returned from Dalmasca safely. How was your trip to Rabanastre? Did you visit in honor of Her Royal Highness Queen Ashelia Dalmasca’s birthday? Please, your Excellency, for the citizens of Tsenoble?” Mr. Jora spoke so swiftly, if his words were gusts of wind, Penelo would have blown away like paper in a storm. He was quick with his hands too, notebook and pen at the ready before Penelo could even blink.

Larsa continued to smile with the polite pretence he had mastered as a child. “Of course,” he agreed, nodding once. “’Tis true; I made a brief visit to Rabanastre to wish Queen Ashe a happy birthday. She and her country are doing well, and I hope to maintain our good standing with them.”

Mr. Jora scribbled Larsa’s words onto the paper with enthusiasm. His head popped back up. “Then, Your Excellency, would you say that this was purely a diplomatic trip?”

Penelo looked at Larsa, and saw his eyebrows furrow a bit. “If by that you mean the trip was intended to strengthen the alliance between our countries, then that is correct. However, the primary intent of my visit was to join my friend in celebration.”

“So this wasn’t a vacation to escape your duties?”

Larsa furrowed his brows just a bit more. “Whoever told you that was mistaken. I have no intention to run from my position.”

“Did you leave because you are ill?”

Larsa’s brows lifted, and his eyes widened for a brief second. “Pardon?”

“Your Excellency, some of our readers have expressed concern about your health, and wish for us to report on it. They say you have been struck by an unknown illness.”

_Wait..._

That sounded all too familiar to Penelo, like she heard it before...

Larsa smiled politely once again. “Mr. Jora, I must advise that you be more careful in choosing what information you trade your chops for; there is no truth to those rumors.”

Mr. Jora looked disappointed as he wrote Larsa’s last words. “I see. I am glad to hear you are in good health, my lord,” he said, and looked up once more. His eyes finally seemed to notice Penelo, and they lit up. “And _who_ is this beautiful young woman accompanying you?”

 _Oh no._ Penelo didn’t think she would get pulled into this, feeling both nervous and flattered all at once. She glanced at Larsa, pleading for help, for she had no idea what to say; Ashe had not instructed her on what she was allowed to share with the public. Larsa had returned her questioning look, and perhaps he was asking the same question with his eyes as she did with hers. Luckily, he was trained to make these decisions.

“Mr. Jora,” he answered, “I would like to introduce to you Dalmasca’s newest ambassador: Penelo.”

“Ambassador Penelo!” Mr. Jora exclaimed, and he enthusiastically shook Penelo’s hand, sending a wave of movement up her arm. “It is an honor!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jora,” Penelo greeted.

“Now tell me,” Mr. Jora inquired, pen in hand, ready to strike, “what brings you here to Archades?”

Penelo opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. She looked to Larsa once more, and she must have looked lost, for he understood completely what she needed for him to do.

Larsa leaned towards Penelo to redirect the reporter’s attention to him. “Penelo has been sent here by Queen Ashe on a temporary assignment, the details of which cannot be disclosed at this time. But I can assure you: it is with the intention of furthering the peace between our nations.”

Mr. Jora nodded as he wrote fervently. “I see, I see,” he said, and after he finished his scribbles, he returned his gaze to Larsa. “I respect your wishes, Lord Larsa. Thank you so much for your time and words; I am sure the citizens of Tsenoble will be pleased to hear this. Good day to you, my lord,” He shook Larsa’s hand again, then Penelo’s, “and good day to you, Ambassador.”

As the reporter turned around and disappeared into the streets of Tsenoble, his words echoed in Penelo’s head. _Rumors… unknown illness…_

Then, she found his words had triggered a memory. Just the week before she sent Larsa the invitation to Ashe’s party, she was shopping for food in the Muthru Bazaar when she heard Archadian skypirates talking about their Emperor “falling ill.” When she interrogated them, they admitted that it was just a rumor they had heard in Balfonheim. They recited to her the full version, which turned out to not only be a rumor, but a poem.

_“The Emperor is falling ill,_

_His blood will be the last of his house to spill.”_

Those words made her heart skip a beat, and she had forgotten how to breathe. The thought of her best friend dead… she didn’t _want_ to think of it. She was ashamed of what she had said to them next, but in her emotional state she couldn’t help herself. “If you continue to spread this, I’ll make sure it’s _your_ blood that spills!” They looked at her, horrified, and never spoke of it again.

When she had relayed the tale to Vaan, he didn’t stop laughing for a full minute. “Damn Pen,” he said, “You sure you wanna quit piracy? You’re more ruthless than I am!” Annoyed that he wasn't taking the rumors seriously, she then proceeded to smack him with the bag of flatbread she had bought.

Penelo looked up at her friend. “Larsa,” she questioned, “Is it common for people to spread those kinds of rumors? About you being sick?”

“Penelo, you will learn soon enough that this city _thrives_ off of rumors – of any kind,” he reassured her.

All she could do was nod in trust of his confidence. If he didn’t take these rumors seriously, then maybe she shouldn’t waste her energy worrying about them either.

Larsa released his arm from her so he could face her fully. “And that is why I must ask of you: please be careful in choosing what information to disclose,” he warned. “These reporters – they will take any word you offer them and forge with it a weapon for your back.”

She must have looked _horrified_ , for Larsa quickly interjected, “Figuratively speaking, of course. It is your _reputation_ they are after, and here: your reputation may as well be your life.”

_That’s a lot of pressure._

“Time is running short – shall we continue?” He smiled at her, eyes beaming with excitement, and Penelo could almost forget about the dark rumors echoing in her head.

 

* * *

 

 

Even though it was the beginning of summer, the breeze was crisp, and it reminded Penelo of late autumn in Rabanastre. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she never left home at all, but simply travelled four months into the future.

However, Archades certainly wasn’t home.

They walked through streets of cobblestone, immaculately cleaned, as each stone gleamed in the summer light. Larsa was pointing this way and that, filling the role of tour-guide, as he promised. Penelo saw towers with apartments so large each took its own floor – “residential suites,” Larsa called them. Each suite had a balcony, many of which were decorated with furniture just like hers, and many of them had gardens. She saw a vibrant array of flowers: red, gold, and occasionally pink and violet. Potted plants hung from balcony roofs, and viridian vines hugged trellises with their long, winding stems. There was a stark difference between the lush Archadian foliage and the sturdy desert vegetation of Dalmasca, but it was beautiful all the same.

As Penelo gazed upon these buildings where brick met metal, and cobblestone streets led to automatic doors, she couldn’t help but think how strange it all was to see this mixture of old and new. It was amazing to see that such different materials could work together to create one unified piece of architecture. It was strange, but it was beautiful. The more Penelo gazed at these buildings that towered over her, with their balconies and their gardens, and the people lucky enough to own them, the more she found herself wanting to know how they came to be. For the first time in her life, she wanted to know the full history of Archadia, beyond what she had learned from war’s horrors.

Larsa pointed out a building that accommodated several restaurants, each one having its own floor. Large terraces supported outdoor seating, so patrons could enjoy the warm sun and cool air of the Archadian summer. One couldn’t find much outdoor seating like this in Rabanastre, not with Dalmasca’s deadly, almost endless summer, and Penelo was definitely jealous.

They passed various shops and high-end fashion boutiques with beautiful, elaborate gowns in the window that Penelo struggled to pry her eyes away from. Towering trees decorated the streets, providing shade with green leaves that rustled gently in the breeze, glowing almost gold in the late afternoon sun. It was quiet, peaceful, and Penelo had gotten so lost in it all, she barely noticed that Larsa stopped walking. At the end of the road, an aircab hovered in place, waiting for them.

Larsa turned to regard the buildings behind them. “It’s beautiful isn’t it – Tsenoble?”

Penelo lifted her gaze to look upon the glistening towers once more. She was still stunned by the district, and a small “yeah” was all she could muster.

“I thought so too, until I realized the extent of the exclusivity of it – then it lost its charm.” His gaze dropped from the monoliths to meet her eyes. “Beauty is meaningless if no one is able to see it, and prosperity is worthless when it sits idly, out of reach.” Larsa released his arm from her now, and stepped towards the aircab to open its back door. He held his left hand out to her. “Penelo, come with me, and I shall show you true beauty.”

Penelo smiled, gently took his hand, and stepped into the aircab.

 

* * *

 

 

After the war, Larsa had made it his mission to clear the air between Archadia and Dalmasca by helping Ashe restore her rightful kingdom to what it once was. In the battle above Rabanastre, the power of the Bahamut had left the city under a pile of debris, and the country simply didn’t have the economic standing or manpower to execute the reconstruction of their damaged infrastructure. Newly appointed emperor after his brother’s death, Larsa showed no hesitation in offering to not only send his own people to work, but to fund the repairs in full, with no expectations of any debt to be paid. Ashe was hesitant to trust that the offer was indeed without debt, but eventually knew that it was best for her people. Since then, Larsa had never asked for a single gil in return.

While in doing this, his mind was struck with a criticism: if he was so willing to help another country in need, he must also look at the needs of his own, or he would be a hypocrite. He could no longer go on without taking action on the situation in Old Archades. A town in poverty just outside his own home city – he was ashamed to have been ignorant to the reality of it for so long. He had discovered many dark truths about his country after meeting Lady Ashe and her party, and he swore to himself that he would dedicate his life to revealing all the truths in this world, no matter their nature, for education was the key to true peace.

So he drafted a bill that would pardon those who had lost their citizenship in Archades, and to integrate Old Archades into the capital, as an official district. However, it would have been cruel of him to not change the name that would forever be tainted with a dark past. And thus, Orbon was written into Archadian law as an official district of Archades.

 Larsa remembered that moment well, when he signed the bill into law. He had never felt so much pride, not only in himself, but in his country. And now he couldn’t wait to share this accomplishment with his best friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Penelo’s sandals clicked against cobblestone as she stepped foot onto what was once Old Archades. After Larsa thanked the driver, the aircab whirred as it flew away, clearing Penelo’s view of the new district.

It was nothing like she had remembered.

She remembered ruins of the old capital rotting as Mother Nature reclaimed what was once hers. She remembered alleys of muted sighs and low whispers, of starving adults and children, left destitute by the very Empire that was meant to protect them, their spirits withering away along with the stone ground they sat upon. It was a sad sight to see, one that was all too familiar to the Dalmascan orphan.

However, Old Archades was no more. Now in its place stood the district of Orbon, and it stood proudly.

Larsa led her down the district’s main street at a gentle pace, his eyes ahead. “After the Orbon bill passed through the Senate, we funded what I had called ‘the Archades Expansion Project,’ a program with the goal of building a new district to accommodate the anticipated growth in the city’s population. I offered these jobs to anyone who wished to work, including those who lived in the old capital. In addition to their payment of gil and chops, I promised to grant them homes in return once the district was completed; until then, we provided temporary housing for them. For those unable to perform such manual labor, we found work for them elsewhere: within and outside the city.”

“Many citizens from Trant and Rienna also joined the project, and together we built this very street we walk upon, schools, as well as homes,” he gestured to the apartment complexes to their right. Although the buildings were not nearly as tall as the towers of Tsenoble, only a few stories high, Penelo found that they weren’t as intimidating because of it. They were painted beautifully in shades of sienna, beige, and copper to match the rest of the city; and while the homes were smaller and didn’t have balconies or automatic doors, they were _homes_ , and that was enough.

Larsa told her that when news broke out that he had granted homes to the new citizens at no cost, many of the gentry professed their outrage and complaints to him and the Senate. It wasn’t fair to those who had no government assistance paying for their homes, they said. However, Larsa simply dismissed them, much to their dismay (and his delight, he admitted). He confessed to Penelo that he took much pleasure in shocking the gentry, and he anticipated that his next bill would be the most ground-breaking of all.

“When the war ended, I ordered for the return of our soldiers. As such, there was no longer a need for a substantial military budget, and so I diverted those funds towards Orbon.” Larsa’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk. “Chairman Garamondt was most opposed to this – however, he was greatly outnumbered in the vote, or should I say, greatly outmatched in our debate.” He glanced at her, holding his smile, and Penelo couldn’t help but chuckle amusedly at his shameless display of pride.

As they passed a school on their left, two young boys rushed past them. “I’ll race you to 'The Eye!'” one of them called to the other just before they sprinted down the street.

“What’s ‘The Eye’?” Penelo asked as she watched the two boys race ahead.

“’Tis the district’s center, where the marketplace is located. Shall we have a look?”

 

* * *

 

 

When they reached the center, Penelo understood why it was nicknamed ‘The Eye’. She had been too distracted by her memories of the old capital when she viewed Orbon from _the Sylph_ to notice that the main street opened up into an almond-shaped plaza.

And within that plaza, lived a bustling marketplace.

It wasn’t nearly as developed as Rabanastre’s Muthru Bazaar, Penelo noted, but despite its humble size, it was lively enough in its own right. Market stalls bordered all sides of the plaza; the white tarps covering them billowed gently in the early summer breeze. Everywhere, people were going about their business: adults shopping for food and goods while their children played, enjoying their after-school freedom.

“This is the Orbon Market,” Larsa explained, “Once its construction had concluded, those who worked on the expansion project needed to find other means of work. Some managed to find jobs in other districts; however, others reached out to local farms just outside the city. While tending to the crops, they convinced the farmers to work with them in selling their produce to a new market here in Archades.”

The market offered an array of goods from all corners of the Empire: various vegetables, as well as blackberries and mulberries from farms just outside the city, bottles of beer and wine, along with apples and potatoes from lands that once made up the farming villages of Landis.

“The market has grown much these past two years. A few citizens are even starting their own businesses. For example,” Larsa gestured to a stall on their right that had freezers powered by magicite. “Sommer’s Ice Cream was started by a woman from the former Republic of Landis. She uses a special family recipe that has been handed down to her through generations.” After passing a few more stalls, he led her to the only shop that was inside a building. “Beckermann’s sells Landisian-style baked goods.” With a wave of his hand, he gestured her to follow him inside.

Within the small, crowded bakery, an assortment of breads, pastries, and pies was displayed behind glass; the air around it all was warm and smelt delicious, prompting Penelo’s mouth to water. It had occurred to her that it had been a few hours since her last meal, as she was too nervous to eat anything while aboard _The Sylph_. She felt a deep rumble in her stomach as she perused the display of cockatrice pies; perhaps she would try one. Just when she was about to pull some gil out of her bag, Larsa had already bought two of them, wrapped in brown paper pouches, and handed one to her. “I still owe you for lunch the other day,” he insisted.

Once they left the bakery, Penelo took a bite of the pie; it was warm and savory and had a mixture of vegetables and cockatrice meat. She sighed, content to bask in the flavor of the Landisian comfort food.

“The first time I tried one of these was with Basch,” Larsa told her between bites. “When Beckermann’s first opened, he insisted I try one. They’re his favorite, you see. He said when he was a child, his mother would bake a batch every week, and he and Noah would finish them all within a day.”

Nostalgia and longing tugged at Penelo’s heartstrings. Basch must have missed his twin brother dearly. Penelo too wished she could go back to the days when she and her own brothers would devour their mom’s cooking together.

“Ever since then,” Larsa said, “I make sure to eat one every chance I visit Orbon.”

After passing a few merchants that sold handmade clothing and accessories, Larsa and Penelo reached the center of the Eye. A stone fountain stood tall, dark blue-gray and gleaming, sculpted in the shape of the winding twin serpents of House Solidor. The serpents towered over Penelo, and they returned her gaze with ferocious eyes as water poured through their piercing teeth.

Ever since the first day she laid eyes on the sigil of House Solidor, Penelo associated it with the imperialism her country had been subjected to. However, every flash of fear she felt was now followed by guilt. After all, with Gramis and Vayne gone, Larsa alone _was_ House Solidor; It was _him_ she should associate it with, no one else. Perhaps one day she would look upon it with fondness for her friend, rather than feeling threatened.

They sat on the fountain’s stone border to finish their pies, the sound of rushing water almost overpowering the chatter of busy marketgoers.

“It seems a lot of Landisians live here,” Penelo remarked.

Larsa finished swallowing his last bite of pie before he answered. “Yes. When The Republic of Landis was…” he looked down, “ _forced_ under Imperial rule… Many of their farming villages suffered; their labor exploited so we could claim their crops for our own. ‘Tis another shameful part of our history I can never forget.” The paper pouch crinkled as he folded it neatly in half. “Many of them had no choice but to leave their villages to look for work elsewhere, for they could no longer afford the inflated prices of their own crops – and so they fled to the capital in hopes to find new opportunities. Unfortunately, unless they gave their service to our military, few of them found success. After all, that is where the majority of our funds were directed.”

“Gabranth…” Penelo remembered wondering how Basch’s mysterious twin brother managed to climb the ranks to Judge Magister. He was skilled in battle – that much she knew first-hand, and he must have impressed his superiors. However, his was a rare talent, and not all were so lucky, nor were they willing to grovel at the feet of Emperors as he did.

“Yes,” Larsa said, folding the paper in half yet again without looking at it. “He was the greatest example of success, although he wasn’t exactly open about his lineage – to my father, brother and I, yes, perhaps Drace as well, but no one else to my knowledge. Even to me, he hardly mentioned his homeland.”

Penelo wondered if he would have gotten so far if more people knew the truth. Would his military superiors not have been so willing to promote him if they saw him as inferior for being from Landis? But she could only speculate, and as she did so, she finished her pie and crumpled the paper wrapping into a ball.

“However, it was not just Landis that struggled,” Larsa continued, “Many people from across the Empire have found themselves here in search of a new beginning, yet I fear they struggle still. I have tried all I can think of to help them, but tisn’t enough. I wish there was more I could do for my people. I hope eliminating the Chop System can create a clean slate, granting everyone equal opportunity. Still, even were the bill to pass, I feel… there is much more that can be done.” He folded the paper in half a third time, meticulously smoothing out the creases as though that would fix all the world’s problems.

Penelo wished Larsa could see how very wrong he was about himself. In his five years as Emperor, he had already done far more good for Ivalice than Gramis did his entire reign. However, in this moment, Larsa seemed too vulnerable to handle criticism about his beloved late father, so Penelo left that thought to rest.

Larsa was still fidgeting with the paper, so Penelo gently took his hands in her own, stilling them. He looked at her, eyes weary with guilt. “You’re doing fine, Larsa,” she reassured him, “All great societies were not built in a day, right? Neither will this; give it time.”

Larsa smiled softly at her words before bringing his gaze over to the crowd of citizens around them. “I wish for my people to thrive,” he said, “I wish for them to be happy. I hope I may one day see my people live together as one, not divided by trivial matters such as status and reputation. Once we are united, I hope we can direct our focus outwards, to better our efforts to foster peace with other nations as well.” His eyes held her gaze steady, an unwavering resolve she had not seen in him since the day he made an oath to protect his country. “This is only the beginning, I promise you – as I promise Archadia.”

A moment passed when all Penelo could hear was the calming flow of the fountain behind her. Water was forever changing its shape, adapting to its environment as it travelled wherever the world took it; she hoped the Archadian people would be just as cooperative to the changes Larsa had planned for them.

“They’re lucky to have you.”

At her words, the resolve in his eyes melted into relief. He smiled at her again, light, as though the weight of a thousand troubles had been lifted off him. “Thank you, Penelo.”

After, Larsa volunteered to take their trash, leaving Penelo’s side in search for the nearest garbage bin. It was during his search when a charming, playful lilt of a string instrument danced its way into Penelo’s ears. Her eyes darted up, wandering around in search of the source of beautiful music. As though she were a puppet on a string, the music pulled her out of her seat and around the fountain, until she saw a man standing on the other side of the stone serpents. The young man plucked the strings of an Archadian lute, tapping his foot to the rhythm as it quickened.

The steady beat soon evolved into a charming melody that spread across the air like gentle rain. It was light, but brisk, and Penelo found herself bobbing her head to the uplifting song. It reminded her of an old song she used to hear in Rabanastre when she was a little girl – one that the troupes used to dance to…

Penelo always liked doing street performances; after all, that’s where her career began.

She approached the lutenist while snapping her hips to the swift rhythm, her arms lifting gracefully as she danced by the fountain. The young man beamed at her, understanding well that she was there to join him in putting on an impromptu performance. He was more than willing to partake in this collaboration, as he started to play his music with more enthusiasm, and the volume grew louder.

It didn't take long for people to notice, and soon they started to gather around the fountain, putting their shopping on pause to watch the performance. This dance must be new to them, Penelo knew, as she could see it in the looks of fascination on their faces. Penelo undulated her body to the melody with grace as she continued to snap her hips to the beat. The curious faces of the onlookers became smiles of appreciation, and Penelo gained a burst of energy from it.

She got up onto the balls of her feet and started traveling to the right, snapping her right hip up continuously as she slowly lifted her arms to the sky. Once her hands went over her head, she stopped, then she sent a smooth wave of motion up her body – first through her hips, then her stomach, then her chest, and lastly she lifted her chin up until she saw only the cerulean summer sky.

Finally, for the first time since stepping foot onto Archades ground, Penelo felt comfortable in her own skin. Dancing had a way of making her feel at peace wherever she was, and she was forever grateful for it.

She stopped there, turning until she found who she was looking for. Off to the side, Larsa had been watching, a grin spread across his face.

 _Get over here, wallflower._ Penelo skipped over to him, grabbed his hands and pulled him with her to the fountain, giving him little time to protest.

Larsa had no objections, but instead, seemed to find amusement in the spontaneity of it, his laughter a pleasant chime in the air. Together they waltzed light and quick, with more bounce in their steps than their slow dance at Ashe’s party. Improvised, their waltz was less refined than what was expected from traditional Archadian dance. It felt almost silly; the two must have looked less like Emperor and Ambassador, and more like two children playing in a schoolyard.

At the sight of the dancing pair, even more people gathered around the fountain in awe at such a spectacle. Penelo imagined it must be shocking for them to see their Emperor dancing on the streets with a strange Dalmascan woman, but she was having far too much fun to care what they thought; and when she looked into Larsa’s eyes, blue and smiling, she knew she was not alone in that.

As the song reached its last line of notes, Larsa released Penelo's waist and spun her outwards to his left, until their arms were fully outstretched, like an unraveled ribbon. He pulled her towards him, her body twirling until he held her in his arms again. She felt herself tipping backward _,_ and as the song reached its final note, Larsa lowered her into a dip.

Their performance was met with a cheery applause from the audience, their claps and occasional whistles filling the air around them.

The dip was a nice touch, Penelo thought, although she wasn’t expecting the traditional Rozarrian dance move from Archadia’s Emperor. “Taking tips from Al-Cid, huh?” she teased as Larsa lifted her back to her feet.

Larsa managed a shaky chuckle, a minor anxiety taking over his earlier boldness. “Did I do the move justice?”

“You did pretty well, dance partner,” Penelo smirked, “although a warning is typically protocol.”

 “S-sorry,” he stammered as he finally let go of her waist. A charming hue of pink softly filled his face; whether it was from the dance, or the summer heat, Penelo knew not.

The crowd dispersed a bit, as people continued on with their shopping. Larsa tipped the lutenist generously, and thanked him for letting him and Penelo dance to his music.

Suddenly, a voice emerged from the chatter of the marketgoers. “Emperor Larsa! Emperor Larsa!”

They turned to see a woman shuffling through the remnants of the crowd. She looked to be in her forties, her blonde hair half tied up, half down, the long waves bouncing against her shoulders as she made her way over to the pair. She had curious emerald eyes and a notebook in her left hand.

“My lord, do you have a word to spare for The Orbon Times?” she asked with a smooth hum of a voice in an accent that was not quite Archadian.

 _Not another reporter,_ Penelo thought. Her last encounter with one left a sour taste in her mouth, and she wouldn’t complain if she never saw another.

However, Larsa’s expression didn’t become reserved as it did with the man from _The Tsenoble Report._ In fact, he had a welcoming smile as he shook her hand. “Of course. You’re Lacinda fon Reick, correct?” The reporter nodded. “Your article about Landisian farmers was illuminating. It would be my pleasure to answer any questions you have for future stories.”

“Thank you my lord,” Then, Lacinda directed her smile to Penelo. “And my dear, what is your name?” she asked, and when Penelo offered her name, the reporter shook her hand with enthusiasm. “Tis a pleasure to meet you, Penelo. I must say, your dance was lovely! I recognized the style – you are from Dalmasca, no? I used to see the troupes dance when they travelled to Landis on their tours – before the war, of course. Are there new troupes in Rabanastre?”

Penelo couldn’t believe what she had heard. This woman had actually seen the old troupes? “Yes, I am,” she answered, a smile spreading across her lips at the thought of her friends and students. “And yes, I actually started one recently with my mentor – she used to be in one of the old troupes you mentioned. We are called the Dancing Galbanas, and we formed right after the war ended.”

"Really?” Lacinda beamed, beginning to write in her notebook. “Oh that is good news indeed! Will you and your troupe be performing here in Archades?”

Larsa chimed in, “Unfortunately, no. Penelo is here as Ambassador of Dalmasca, for a temporary assignment – the nature of which cannot be disclosed, I’m afraid.”

“Oh truly?” Lacinda's eyes lit up. “Ambassador Penelo, it is with honor I welcome you to Archades. I hope you have taken a liking to the city?” She managed to speak and write at the same time, keeping her letters in a straight line without looking – an impressive feat, Penelo admitted.

“Oh yes,” Penelo smiled humbly, nodding once. “Archades is… very different from Rabanastre.”

“Well I do hope you enjoy your stay.” Lacinda turned to face Larsa. “Your Grace, do you have a word to share regarding your trip to Dalmasca?”

Larsa took a few seconds to think on it before he answered, “Every chance I visit Rabanastre, I find myself inspired by their welcoming community,” he regarded Penelo with a warm smile, “Also, I had the pleasure of reuniting with Penelo; she and I have been good friends for several years now.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Lacinda nodded swiftly as she jotted down the last of Larsa’s statement. “’Tis a relief to know the Empire is on good terms with Dalmasca, and the people of Orbon will be pleased to know of your arrival. Thank you my lord,” she shook his hand again. After a quick glance at Penelo, she rummaged through her messenger bag to pull out a familiar block of wood. “Ambassador: for you,” she said, as she held out a single pinewood chop.

_She’s paying me? Why?_

Penelo shook her head, eyes wide. “Oh no, I can’t accept this. I didn’t really do _anything_.”

Lacinda grinned. “Do not sell yourself short, my dear, you have done me a great favor.” When she saw that Penelo still looked doubtful, she continued, “I have been searching for a story all day, and you have granted it to me. Please, take it.”

“Do- do you have a lot? I don’t want to put you out or anything.”

The reporter shook her head. “Worry not. With the story you gave me, this is the least I can exchange.” She held the chop out further, her eager smile urging Penelo to take it.

Penelo complied, although reluctantly. The pinewood was light in color and smooth in her hands, likely sanded down and polished. The rectangular block was as long as her hand, and when she held it on its side, she could see that it was cut at an angle. Penelo held it flatly again, and gazed into the symbol of the Archadian Empire engraved in the wood with fine craftsmanship. When she examined it closer, she could see there were many engravings, of words and symbols that held no meaning to her, and they were so tiny, so shallow, that if she wasn’t blessed with good eyesight, she would not see them at all.

“Thank you,” was all she could say.

 Lacinda shook Penelo’s hand again. “It was lovely meeting you, Ambassador Penelo. I do hope we cross paths in the future.”

Penelo thanked her again, and she couldn’t help but smile at the woman in front of her. It was a relief to have met someone who had known something about her country and culture, and she felt a little less out of place in this city of strangers.

With a spring in her step, Lacinda left them to approach the lutenist a few paces away.

Penelo gazed down into the pinewood chop in her hands, regretting her decision to accept it. What would an ambassador need with a chop? Ashe and Larsa assured her all her needs would be taken care of during her stay. She ought to go back to Lacinda and return it. As soon as Lacinda finished her interview with the lutenist, Penelo could-

“Penelo, are you alright?” Larsa’s voice shook her out of her thoughts.

She continued to look down at her pinewood chop guiltily. “There are so many people who need this more than me. People who need to prove their status to buy a _home_ , people who don’t have connections to get into the city…”

Larsa stared on, listening.

Penelo sighed. “Also, I didn’t really do _anything_ to earn this. I know I gave her a story, but – she only spoke to me because I was with _you_. And I’m only interesting enough to write a story about because Ashe appointed me Ambassador. I only have this because of my _connections_ to people, not for anything I’ve actually done.”

Larsa blinked, shaking his head once. “I disagree, although that is the case in many circumstances. But even were it true, you forgot one thing: your dance. She was quite excited to hear about your troupe; and it was because you danced that she even noticed us at all.”

“I should just give this back to her.”

Larsa nodded thoughtfully. “You could, although it is usually considered an insult if someone rejects a chop offering. Such an act would often be interpreted as you saying she is not successful enough to help you. However, she was raised in Landis, so there is a chance she would see it differently. Even so, ‘tis a risk I personally would not take.”

Penelo sighed again, sitting down on the fountain’s brick edge.

“It is entirely your choice whether you should keep it or not. You could give it away, and that would be noble of you,” Larsa suggested. “However, I think you should keep it; after all, you will be here for a month. You never know when you might need information.”

Penelo shook her head once before lifting her eyes to him. “But what’s the point? The Chop system will be abolished soon, right?”

It was Larsa’s turn to sigh. “There is no guarantee my bill will even leave the Senate floor, Penelo. And even if we could convince more than half the Senate to vote in favor, it would take months to process before we can even put it into law. ‘Tis an ugly, tedious endeavor, I’m afraid. In the meantime, I say you ought to put that chop to good use, don’t you think?”

Penelo huffed, discontent with the situation.

“Penelo,” Larsa spoke to her calmly, “You may not like the game, but you must play it – after all, ‘tis the law.”

“A law that sucks,” Penelo murmured, prompting Larsa to laugh, but she didn’t join him. “I mean, what if no one was willing to give a reporter like Lacinda information just because she’s an ardent from Landis? What if she gave information to someone from Tsenoble, but they don’t give her the chops in return for the same reason? There’s no law forcing anyone to give chops, not like gil. If you take something without paying gil, it’s considered theft, and you get arrested for it. With chops there are no repercussions _at all_.”

Larsa nodded. “And as long as the Chop System remains, there never _can_ be, for chops are defined as gifts, as written in the original bill.”

“So that puts people at the mercy of someone else’s generosity…” Penelo shook her head. The thought of relying on the generosity of those entitled gentry left an uncomfortable feeling in her gut. Now that she thought about it, it had been the _ardents_ who had parted with their chops when Ashe and the party needed them all those years ago.

“A feigned generosity, one that comes with a price,” Larsa crossed his arms. “As you see, this system can be easily corrupted and has been for generations. It has created barriers, designed to keep the wealthy at the top, while those less fortunate scramble for scraps on the ground. It has created a culture of greed and entitlement over the years.”

_A culture that’s centuries old. Would it even be possible to change it?_

Penelo looked down at the pinewood chop she held in her lap. _Meanwhile, I have to figure out what to do with this,_ she thought, tracing the carvings with her thumb. This was all so complicated. She was handed a job with no instructions on how to do it, no clear list of rights and wrongs; a job that, as far as she knew, had never been done before. To change an entire city’s centuries-old culture and way of life…It was daunting to say the least, especially so for a simple dancer from a far-away land.

As Penelo pondered the probability of such a feat, Larsa sat beside her on the fountain’s edge.

It was as though he read her thoughts. “It seems impossible to challenge such a system, I know. However, there are two directions we could go to find a solution: we either change the _people_ , or the _law_. Now, I cannot simply change who a person _is_ , nor do I wish to abuse my power to dictate how and when one uses their rightfully earned chops. And so, I have chosen to change the law – to eliminate the necessity for chops entirely.”

“You can do both,” Penelo offered, “You can still change your people. You could _influence_ them, to a point where their values would change naturally. It would take _time_ , but at least you wouldn’t have to force them.”

Larsa smiled warmly. “And I suppose that is the reason you are here: to offer Archades a new perspective. To influence them, as you have influenced me.”

 _He gives me too much credit_ , Penelo thought, feeling like an impostor, yet she returned his smile.

“Alright,” Larsa exhaled, his expression brightened. “And so we change both. First we change the law, and in turn, the law changes the people – with your help, of course.”

_Of course – however I’m supposed to do that._

Larsa stood, and his smile faltered at the sight of Penelo’s disheartened expression. “Worry not, Penelo. You are capable of more than you know; of this I have no doubt.” He offered his hand to her. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

That charming, optimistic smile of his could convince her to follow him anywhere – to get her to believe anything. Even with all her doubts about the future, she wasn’t alone in this task, and if Larsa believed they could do it, then maybe… so did she.

Penelo took Larsa’s hand, and while it was his strength that brought her to her feet, it was his encouragement that lifted her spirits.

Together they walked through the streets of Orbon, once a nameless place paved with the debris of fallen dreams; it was nothing like that now. If this was what Larsa could accomplish in just a few short years, Penelo couldn’t wait to see that else he had in store. And although she felt no closer to her own purpose in this endeavor, she was excited for the day she would find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was named after the song "Into the Ocean" by Blue October.
> 
> BIG shout-out to my beta reader, Ridorana!
> 
> Please drop a comment if you'd like! Comments are fuel for writing...
> 
>  For plot consistency purposes, this fic is on hiatus until I finish writing the rough draft. In the meantime, you can yell with me about writing on social media.
> 
> [ I'm on tumblr!](http://chaoticrice.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also I talk about writing my fic sometimes on my twitter @ShellayRice
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
